The only word I
caught was 'Guyablle!' and that's not a word for young people like you
and me, though it may suit Marielihou. I'm very much afraid I'll have
to speak to the schoolmaster about you, after all, and to the Vicar
too, maybe. What? A Wesleyan, are you? Very well then, it's Monsieur
Bisson I must speak to."

Here the small boy, with his face crumpled up into a grin, pointed a
thin grimy finger past the young man, and he turned and saw the
ladies. He doffed his cap and jumped down and tapped out his pipe, and
the dogs sprang up expectant;--Punch, grave as ever but light on his
feet for instant start; Scamp twisting himself into figure-eights, and
rending the air with such yelps of delight that not a word could they
pass.

"Johnnie! Stop him!" shouted Graeme. The small boy in the hedge flung
out his arm with a sudden threatening gesture, and the circling Scamp
fled through the gateway and up the garden with a shriek of dismay,
and remained there yelping as if he had been struck.

"Odd that, isn't it?" said Graeme. "Johnnie's the only person that can
stop that small dog talking; and, what's more, he can do it a hundred
yards away. If the dog can see him that's enough, and yet they're good
enough friends as a rule. Look at Punch!"

The big brown fellow was standing eyeing the small boy with an odd
expression, intent, expectant, doubtful, with just a touch of
apprehension in it, and perhaps of latent anger.

"Can you do it with Punch?" asked Miss Penny.

The small boy shook his head. "Godzamin, he'd eat me if I tried," he
said, and lifted his eyes from the dog's, and the dog walked quietly
up to Margaret and pushed his great head under her hand.

"He's a fine fellow," she said, caressing him.

"A most gentlemanly dog," said Miss Penny. "His eyes are absolutely
poetical,--charged with thoughts too deep for words."

"Yes, he's dumb," said Graeme, stooping to pull a long brown ear.

"Really?" asked Margaret, looking into his face to make sure he was
not joking.

"We've been close friends for a month now, and I've never heard his
voice even in a whisper, nor has anyone else. I've an idea Johnnie
here has put a spell on him."

"Poor old fellow!" said Margaret, fondling the big brown head.

"Oh, he's quite happy--bold as a lion and graceful as a panther, and
Scamp talks more than enough for the two of them."

"And what a fine big cat you have, Johnnie!" said Miss Penny, and
stretched a friendly hand to