Jeremy hurried up crying: "Put it down, Hamlet, naughty dog, naughty
dog," and Mary and Helen laughed with frantic delight.

At last Miss Jones, her face red and her hair in disorder, rescued
her property and returned to the table, Hamlet meanwhile wagging his
tail, panting and watching for a further game.

"I can't possibly," said Miss Jones, "allow that dog in here during
lesson hours. It's impossible."

"Oh, but Miss Jones--" began Jeremy.

"Not one word," said she, "let us have no more of this. Lead him
from the room, Jeremy!"

"But, Miss Jones, he must be here. He's learning too. In a day or
two he'll be as good as anything, really he will. He's so
intelligent. He really thought it was his to play with, and he did
give it up, didn't he, as soon as I said--"

"Enough," said Miss Jones, "I will listen to no more. I say he is
not to remain--"

"But if I promise--" said Jeremy.

Then Miss Jones made a bad mistake. Wearied of the argument, wishing
to continue the lesson, and hoping perhaps to please her tormentors,
she said meekly: