wound before Mrs. Woodbourne came up to satisfy herself as to the
extent of the injury. Winifred had by this time been diverted from
the contemplation of her misfortunes by the fitting on of the
sticking-plaster, and by admiration of Anne's bright rose-wood
dressing-box, and was full of the delight of discovering that A. K.
M., engraven in silver upon the lid, stood for Anne Katherine Merton,
when her mamma came in. It appeared that the little girl and her
brother had been playing rather too roughly with Fido, and that he
had revenged himself after the usual fashion of little dogs,
especially of those not come to years of discretion. Winifred was
quite ready to assure her mamma that he had scarcely hurt her, and
that she was very sorry she had cried so much. Mrs. Woodbourne and
Elizabeth, however, agreed that it would be better for her to appear
no more that evening, and Dora undertook to keep her company in the
nursery--glad, as Elizabeth could see, to escape from the presence of
Aunt Hazleby, who had sunk much in Dora's good graces since her
conversation with her in the afternoon.

'If people would but let children alone,' said Elizabeth, as the two
little girls departed hand in hand; 'it puts me out of all patience
to see her first made silly by being pitied, and then told she is an
angel. Too bad and too silly, I declare.'

'You should consider a little, my dear, and not speak so hastily,'
said gentle Mrs. Woodbourne; 'they mean it kindly.'

'Mistaken kindness,' said Elizabeth, as she opened the drawing-room
door.

In a moment they were overwhelmed with inquiries for 'the sweet