little sufferer,' as Mrs. Dale called her.

'I only hope there is no fear of the dog's being mad,' observed that
lady.

'Oh! there is no danger of that,' said Elizabeth, knowing how such a
terror would dwell on Mrs. Woodbourne's spirits. 'See, he can
drink.'

Mrs. Hazleby had taken possession of the cream-jug, which had
accompanied the coffee, and was consoling the offender by pouring
some of its contents into a saucer for him.

'But I thought it was water that mad dogs refuse,' said Mrs. Dale.

'Mad dog!' cried Mrs. Hazleby, 'he is as mad as I am, I fancy; it was
quite enough to make him bite when Edward there was pulling his
ears.'

'I did not pull his ears, Aunt Hazleby; I did not make him bite
Winifred,' vociferated Edward; 'I told you so before, Aunt Hazleby,
and you will say so.'

'Fine little fellow,' whispered Mrs. Dale, quite loud enough for
Edward to hear her; 'I quite admire his spirit.'

'Do not be rude, Edward my dear,' said his mother.

'But Aunt Hazleby will say that I made Fido bite Winifred, Mamma,'
said Edward; 'and I did not, he did it of himself.'