he hurt Tommie?"

"Hurt him?" Moody repeated, indignant at the interest which she felt in
the animal, and the indifference which she exhibited towards the man
(as represented by himself). "Hurt him, indeed! Mr. Hardyman bled the
brute--"

"Brute?" Isabel reiterated, with flashing eyes. "I know some people, Mr.
Moody, who really deserve to be called by that horrid word. If you can't
say 'Tommie,' when you speak of him in my presence, be so good as to say
'the dog.'"

Moody yielded with the worst possible grace. "Oh, very well! Mr.
Hardyman bled the dog, and brought him to his senses directly. I am
charged to tell you--" He stopped, as if the message which he was
instructed to deliver was in the last degree distasteful to him.

"Well, what were you charged to tell me?"

"I was to say that Mr. Hardyman will give you instructions how to treat
the dog for the future."

Isabel hastened to the door, eager to receive her instructions. Moody
stopped her before she could open it.

"You are in a great hurry to get to Mr. Hardyman," he remarked.

Isabel looked back at him in surprise. "You said just now that Mr.
Hardyman was waiting to tell me how to nurse Tommie."