smelt of soap, and she made the wardrobe-maid smell all the bed linen--
in fact she was very upset and cross altogether. Next morning she
ordered Gavrila to be summoned an hour earlier than usual.

"Tell me, please," she began, directly the latter, not without some
inward trepidation, crossed the threshold of her boudoir, "what dog was
that barking all night in our yard? It wouldn't let me sleep!"

"A dog, 'm . . . what dog, 'm . . . may be, the dumb man's dog, 'm," he
brought out in a rather unsteady voice.

"I don't know whether it was the dumb man's or whose, but it wouldn't
let me sleep. And I wonder what we have such a lot of dogs for! I wish
to know. We have a yard dog, haven't we?"

"Oh yes, 'm, we have, 'm. Wolf, 'm."

"Well, why more? what do we want more dogs for? It's simply introducing
disorder. There's no one in control in the house--that's what it is. And
what does the dumb man want with a dog? Who gave him leave to keep dogs
in my yard? Yesterday I went to the window, and there it was lying in
the flower-garden; it had dragged in nastiness it was gnawing, and my
roses are planted there . . ."

The lady ceased.

"Let her be gone from to-day . . . do you hear?"

"Yes, 'm."