Her gravity was even more charming than her gayety. As she lifted
her face to him, with large solemn eyes, expressive of her sense of
responsibility, Hardyman would have given every horse in his stables to
have had the privilege of taking her in his arms and kissing her.

"Tommie has the temper of an angel with the people he likes," she said.
"When he bites, it generally means that he objects to strangers. He
loves my Lady, and he loves Mr. Moody, and he loves me, and--and I think
that's all. This way, sir, if you please, I am sure I heard my Lady
call."

"No," said Hardyman, in his immovably obstinate way. "Nobody called.
About this dog's temper? Doesn't he take to any strangers? What sort of
people does he bite in general?"

Isabel's pretty lips began to curl upward at the corners in a quaint
smile. Hardyman's last imbecile question had opened her eyes to the
true state of the case. Still, Tommie's future was in this strange
gentleman's hands; she felt bound to consider that. And, moreover, it
was no everyday event, in Isabel's experience, to fascinate a famous
personage, who was also a magnificent and perfectly dressed man. She ran
the risk of wasting another minute or two, and went on with the memoirs
of Tommie.

"I must own, sir," she resumed, "that he behaves a little
ungratefully--even to strangers who take an interest in him. When he
gets lost in the streets (which is very often), he sits down on the
pavement and howls till he collects a pitying crowd round him; and when
they try to read his name and address on his collar he snaps at them.
The servants generally find him and bring him back; and as soon as he