It was a custom with this good and faithful mother to have a little
talk with her boys, every night before their bed time, of what had
passed during the day. Sometimes she told them stories, sometimes
they repeated poetry.

The hours they passed in this way were the happiest in the whole
day. Some of their twilight talks and stories Mrs. Chilton wrote
down, thinking they might amuse some little cousins, who lived at a
distance. Perhaps some other little boys and girls may like to hear
them too.

One evening, early in November, when tea was over, and the tea
things were removed; when the nice hearth was swept clean, and the
great wood fire was blazing brightly, and sending forth its cheering
light and heat through the whole room, Frank and Harry had taken
their accustomed places, one on each side of their mother who was
sitting on the old-fashioned sofa. Each one appropriated a hand to
himself, when they both, almost in the same breath, said to her,
"You promised us, Mother, if we were good boys, to tell us a story
this evening. Now, have we not been good boys all day?"

"Yes, you have," she replied; "you have not quarrelled, and you have
got your lessons well; and I will gladly perform my promise. But I
hardly know whether I can remember or make up any story to tell you.
However, I will do my best. What sort of a story will you have?"

"I," said Frank, "should like a real good true story about a dog, or
any other animal."

"And I like a made-up story best," said Harry.

"I have an anecdote of a dog for you, Frank, which a friend related
to me the other day, and which I determined to remember to tell you,
as I recollected your love for dogs. The lady who told me the story
is an English woman. She was in the place where the thing happened,
at the very time, and knew the dog and his master.

An English gentleman had a small dog, I think a terrier; he took it
with him across the English Channel to Calais which, you know, is in
France. He had business there, and remained some time. One day his
poor little dog was severely treated by a French dog, much larger
than himself.

The little terrier knew that he could not punish the big French dog.
For some days you might see him with his head hanging down as well
as his tail, and a most melancholy expression in his face. At last,
he disappeared. His master, who was very fond of him, made every
inquiry after him. In vain--his little four-footed friend was
nowhere to b