trousers, overthrowing old women and children, exercising an unlimited
right-of-way on both sides of the pavement, now rushing into a backyard
and up the kitchen stairs after a cat, now scattering terror and
confusion by flying right at the throat of an old enemy. Or Trofast
would sometimes amuse himself by stopping in front of a little girl who
might be going an errand for her mother, thrusting his black nose up
into her face, and growling, with gaping jaws, 'Bow, wow, wow!'

If you could see the little thing! She becomes blue in the face, her
arms hang rigidly by her sides, her feet keep tripping up and down; she
tries to scream, but cannot utter a sound.

But the grown ladies in the street cry shame upon her, and say:

'What a little fool! How _can_ you be afraid of such a dear, nice dog?
Why, he only wants to play with you! See what a great big, fine fellow
he is. Won't you pat him?'

But this the little one will not do upon any account; and, when she goes
home to her mother, the sobs are still rising in her throat. Neither her
mother nor the doctor can understand, afterwards, why the healthy,
lively child becomes rigid and blue in the face at the least fright, and
loses the power to scream.

But all these diversions were colourless and tame in comparison with
_les grands cavalcades d'amour_, in which Trofast was always one of the
foremost. Six, eight, ten, or twelve large yellow, black, and red dogs,
with a long following of smaller and quite small ones, so bitten and
mud-bespattered that one could scarcely see what they were made of, but
yet very courageous, tails in the air and panting with ardour, although