sitting-room sofa and gave chase. But Tom flourished his whip, old
Turk galloped down the garden-walk with the whole train at his heels,
and Miss Wales was whirled across the street before Grace could reach
the gate.

"Tom, Tom Morris! stop this minute, you wicked boy! You'll break
Estella's nose!" she cried, as they pursued the cavalcade toward the
grove opposite the house. Here Pete, excited by the uproar, began
barking furiously, and running around in a circle with a speed which
soon brought Estella to the ground, besides tying up Tom's legs in a
complicated manner with the cord which served as a connecting link
between the team in front and the team behind. Old Turk, after taking
a survey of the scene, gently laid himself down, harness and all, and
wagged his ponderous tail; while poor Grip, in his efforts to free
himself from the shawl, managed to pull his cap over his eyes, and
howled in blind dismay. In the midst of the confusion, Grace rescued
Miss Wales from her perilous position, and, finding her classic nose
still unbroken, laid her carefully in the crotch of a tree, and
prepared for revenge. In his desire to secure the obedience of his
dog-team, Tom had fastened them securely, by long cords, to his belt;
Pete had already managed to wind his tether tightly around Tom's legs,
and Grace incited Turk to rebellion, so that he, too, began to gambol
about in his elephantine way, and Tom was soon tangled in another net.
"I say, Grace, let the dogs alone, will you!" he said angrily, as he
vainly tried to disentangle himself. "Here, Turk! lie down sir! Where
in the world is my knife? Pete Trone, you are in for a switching,
young man, as soon as these cords are cut!" During this time Grip had
been pulling at his night-cap with all the strength of his paws; but
as he only succeeded in drawing it farther over his nose, he finally
gave up in despair, and, hearing Grace's voice, patiently sat up on