to whom the doorstep belonged.

"Oh, 'Dolph!" she murmured.

To her credit, in the act of appealing to him, she understood the dog's
heroism, and again stretched forth her arms. He had been waiting for
this--sprang at her, and again was caught and hugged. Again the two
forlorn ones rocked in an embrace.

Brief ecstasy! The door behind them was constructed in two portions, of
which the upper stood wide, the lower deceptively on the latch. Against
this, as she struggled with Godolphus's ardour, Tilda gave a backward
lurch. It yielded, flew open, and child and dog together rolled in
across the threshold, while a shop-bell jangled madly above them.

"Get out of this--you and your nasty cur!"

Tilda picked up herself and her crutch, and stood eyeing the shopwoman,
who, summoned by the bell, had come rushing from an inner room, and in
no sweet temper. From the woman she glanced around the shop--
a dairy-shop with a marble-topped counter, and upon the counter a pair
of scales and a large yellow block of margarine.

"It was a naccident," said Tilda firmly and with composure. "And my dog
isn' a nasty cur; it only shows your ignorance. Be quiet, 'Dolph!"

She had to turn and shake her crutch at Godolphus, who, perceiving his
mistress's line of action, at once, in his impulsive Irish way, barked
defiance at the shopwoman.