ock had been subjected to the continuous action of Nellie's teeth for
several months, and an ancient doll, without the assistance of which, as
a species of Stokesite _memoria teohnica_, Nellie declared that she could
not say her lessons at all. Those things disappeared, and, with them,
Nellie's troubles, into a large drawer set apart for the purpose. By the
time Mr. Juxon had rung the bell and Martha's answering footstep was
beginning to echo in the small passage, Mrs. Goddard had passed to the
consideration of Nellie herself. Nellie's fingers were mightily inky, but
in other respects she was presentable.

"Run and wash your hands, child, and then you may come back," said her
mother.

"Oh mamma, _must_ I go? He's just coming in." She gave one despairing
look at her little hands, and then ran away. The idea of missing one
moment of Mr. Juxon's visit was bitter, but to be caught with inky
fingers by a beautiful gentleman with green stockings and a rose in his
coat would be more terribly humiliating still. There was a sound as of
some gigantic beast plunging into the passage as the front door was
opened, and a scream of terror from Martha followed by a good-natured
laugh from the squire.

"You'll excuse _me_, sir, but he don't bite, sir, does he? Oh my! what a
dog he is, sir--"

"Is Mrs. Goddard in?" inquired Mr. Juxon, holding the hound by the
collar. Martha opened the door of the little sitting-room and the squire
looked in. Martha fled down the passage.

"Oh my! What a tremendious dog that is, to be sure!" she was heard to
exclaim as she disappeared into the back of the cottage.

"May I come in?" asked Mr. Juxon, rather timidly and with an expression
of amused perplexity on his brown face. "Lie down, Stamboul!"

"Oh, bring him in, too," said Mrs. Goddard coming forward and taking Mr.
Juxon's hand. "I am so fond of dogs." Indeed she was rather embarrassed
and was glad of the diversion.

"He is really very quiet," said the squire apologetically, "only he is a
little impetuous about getting into a house." Then, seeing that Mrs.
Goddard looked at the enormous animal with some interest and much wonder,
he added, "he is a Russian bloodhound--perhaps you never saw one? He was
given to me in Constantinople, so I call him Stamboul--good name for a
big dog is not it?"

"Very," said Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. Stamboul was indeed an
exceedingly remarkable beast. Taller than the tallest mastiff, he
combined with his g