frequently heard his grandmother
make use of in moments of state and ceremony.

The Fozzy-gog appeared to be favourably impressed by 'Zekiel's
request. He rose from his chair, and waved his paw graciously.

"We dismiss this gathering!" he cried. "And you, Pyetangle"--pointing
to 'Zekiel's china dog--"take your master home, and bring him to our
meeting at the cross-roads to-morrow at midnight. Do not fail.
Farewell!"

As he spoke the Fozzy-gog shrank and stiffened. His black curls
acquired their usual glaze, and he had just time to jump upon the
shelf above the shop window, before he froze into his immovable china
self again.

The other dogs disappeared through the open kitchen casement; and
'Zekiel found himself in the village street without in the least
knowing how he got there!

It was almost dark as he ran home, but as he swung open the garden
gate, he fancied he saw something white standing exactly in the centre
of the pathway. He was sure he heard a faint barking, and a voice
whispered--"Wait a minute, 'Zekiel, I want to talk to you." 'Zekiel
retreated a step, and sat down gasping on a flower bed.

"I want to talk to you," repeated the little voice.

'Zekiel craned forward, though he was trembling with fright, and saw
in the fast gathering shadows his own china dog, standing beside
Granny Pyetangle's favourite lavender bush--though how it managed to
get there so quickly he could not imagine! He stretched out his hand
to stroke it, and started up, as instead of the cold china, he felt
the soft curls of a fluffy fur coat.

"Tell me what it all means! Oh, do'ee, now!" said 'Zekiel, almost
crying.

The china dog sat down by 'Zekiel's side, and putting one paw
affectionately on his knee, looked up in his face, with his honest
yellow eyes.

"The Fozzy-gog has commissioned me to explain all about it," he said
confidentially. "So don't be frightened, and no harm will come of it!
Twice every month (if we can escape unobserved) we take the form of
ordinary dogs, and meet together to amuse ourselves, or to work for
our owners. There are many of us in the village, and as the Fozzy-gog
is our ruler, we are bound to obey him, and to work more for old Dame
Fossie than for anybody else. Yesterday we knew she was going to visit
her married daughter. We determined to have a thorough house-cleaning,
and were just in the midst of it when you came in! It was a good thing
the Fozzy-gog happened to be in a good temper, and