The companion, addressed by the old lady, hesitated, poor thing, in that
wretched state of uneasiness which is common in any person in a
dependent position who doesn't know very well what significance to give
to the exclamation of a superior.

"I d . . . d . . . don't know," she faltered; "I fancy it's the dumb man's
dog."

"Mercy!" the lady cut her short; "but it's a charming little dog! order
it to be brought in. Has he had it long? How is it I've never seen it
before? . . . Order it to be brought in."

The companion flew at once into the hall.

"Boy, boy!" she shouted; "bring Mumu in at once! She's in the flower-
garden."

"Her name's Mumu then," observed the lady; "a very nice name."

"Oh, very, indeed!" chimed in the companion. "Make haste, Stepan!"

Stepan, a sturdy-built young fellow, whose duties were those of a
footman, rushed headlong into the flower-garden, and tried to capture
Mumu, but she cleverly slipped from his fingers, and with her tail in
the air, fled full speed to Gerasim, who was at that instant in the
kitchen, knocking out and cleaning a barrel, turning it upside down in
his hands like a child's drum. Stepan ran after her, and tried to catch
her just at her master's feet; but the sensible dog would not let a
stranger touch her, and with a bound, she got away. Gerasim looked on