oice, 'I am sure I did not make him do
it.'

Elizabeth knelt down by Mrs. Woodbourne, and began to unroll the
handkerchief in which Winifred had wound up her hand; but she was
prevented by a fresh scream from the patient.

'Oh! my dear, never mind, do not cry; come, be a brave woman,' said
poor Mrs. Woodbourne, her voice quivering with alarm.

'Poor little dear!' exclaimed Mrs. Dale, 'she bears it like a little
angel; but it is quite a severe bite.'

'Mamma,' said Elizabeth, rising, 'I think she had better come up-stairs
with me. Do not you come, Mamma; I will send for you, if--if it is
more than a scratch.'

She took Winifred in her arms and carried her off, followed by Mrs.
Dale, Miss Maynard, Harriet, Katherine, and Dora, the last-mentioned
looking quite pale with fright.

'If you please,' said Elizabeth, turning round at the foot of the
stairs, 'I can manage her better alone.'

She gained her point, though at the expense of politeness. Mrs. Dale
and Miss Maynard retreated, and Harriet and Katherine followed in their
train. Dora looked inquiringly at her eldest sister.

'Yes, Dora, you may come,' said she, running up-stairs to her own room,
where she shut the door, and set Winifred on her feet again. 'Well,
Winifred, let us see,' said she cheerfully, 'are you much hurt?'

'It bleeds,' said Winifred, withholding her hand.

'Not very much,' said Elizabeth, removing the handkerchief, and washing
off the blood, which had been more the cause of the scream than the
pain. She soon satisfied herself and her sisters that the bite was
scarcely more than a scratch; and a piece of sticking-plaster, fetched
by Dora, whose ready eye and clear thoughtful head had already made her
the best finder in the family, had covered the wound before Mrs.
Woodbourne came up to satisfy herself as to the extent of the injury.
Winifred had by this time been diverted from the contemplation of her
misfortunes by the fitting on of the sticking-plaster, and by
admiration of Anne's bright rose-wood dressing-box, and was full of the
delight of discovering that A. K. M., engraven in silver upon the lid,
stood for Anne Katherine Merton, when her mamma came in. It appeared
that the little girl and her brother had been playing rather too
roughly with Fido, and that he had revenged himself after the usual
fashion of little dogs, especially of those not come to years of
discretion. Winifred was quite ready to assure her mamma that he had
s