ation jumped into her
lap.

The old woman grinned at the dog "Ah, you thing you!" said she, and she
gave it her finger to bite. The delighted puppy chewed her bony
finger, and then instituted a mimic warfare against a piece of rag that
fluttered from her breast, barking and growling in joyous excitement,
while the old woman fondled and hugged it.

The door of the house opposite opened quickly, and a woman with a
frost-bitten face came out.

"Leave that dog down," said she.

The old woman grinned humbly at her.

"Sure, ma'am, I wouldn't hurt the little dog, the thing!"

"Put down that dog," said the woman, "and go about your business--the
likes of you ought to be arrested."

A man in shirt sleeves appeared behind her, and at him the old woman
grinned even more humbly.

"Let me sit here for a while and play with the little dog, sir," said
she; "sure the roads do be lonesome--"

The man stalked close and grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck. It
hung between his finger and thumb with its tail tucked between its legs
and its eyes screwed round on one side in amazement.

"Be off with you out of that, you old strap!" said the man in a terrible
voice.

So the old woman rose painfully to her feet again, and as she went
hobbling along the dusty road she began to cry.

The Philosopher also arose; he was very indignant but did not know what
to do. A singular lassitude also prevented him from interfering. As they
paced along his companion began mumbling, more to herself than to him
"Ah, God be with me," said she, "an old woman on a stick, that hasn't
a place in the wide world to go to or a neighbour itself.... I wish
I could get a cup of tea, so I do. I wish to God I could get a cup
of tea.... Me sitting down in my own little house, with the white
tablecloth on the table, and the butter in the dish, and the strong, red
tea in the tea-cup; and me pouring cream into it, and, maybe, telling
the children not to be wasting the sugar, the things! and himself saying
he'd got to mow the big field to-day, or that the red cow was going
to calve, the poor thing, and that if the boys went to school, who was
going to weed the turnips--and me sitting drinking my strong cup of tea,
and telling him where that old trapesing hen was laying.... Ah, God be
with me! an old creature hobbling along the roads on a stick. I wish I
was a young girl again, so I do, and himself coming courting me, and him
saying that I was a real nice litt