earth rug quite near her.

They had a little talk about things I did not understand and then the
lady's eyes fell on me. She looked at me through a bit of glass that was
hanging by a chain from her neck, and pulled away her beautiful dress
lest I should touch it.

I did not care any longer for the perfume, and went away and sat very
straight and stiff at Mrs. Morris' feet. The lady's eyes still followed
me.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Morris," she said; "but that is a very
queer-looking dog you have there."

"Yes," said Mrs. Morris, quietly; "he is not a handsome dog."

"And he is a new one, isn't he?" said Mrs. Montague.

"Yes."

"And that makes--"

"Two dogs, a cat, fifteen or twenty rabbits, a rat, about a dozen
canaries, and two dozen goldfish, I don't know how many pigeons, a few
bantams, a guinea pig, and--well, I don't think there is anything more."

They both laughed, and Mrs. Montague said: "You have quite a menagerie.
My father would never allow one of his children to keep a pet animal. He
said it would make his girls rough and noisy to romp about the house
with cats, and his boys would look like rowdies if they went about with
dogs at their heels."

"I have never found that it made my children more rough to play with
their pets," said Mrs. Morris.

"No, I should think not," said the lady, languidly. "Your boys are the
most gentlemanly lads in Fairport, and as for Laura, she is a perfect
little lady. I like so much to have them come and see Charlie. They wake
him up, and yet don't make him naughty."

"They enjoyed their last visit very much," said Mrs. Morris. "By the
way, I have heard them talking about getting Charlie a dog."

"Oh!" cried the lady, with a little shudder, "beg them not to. I cannot
sanction that. I hate dogs."

"Why do you hate them?" asked Mrs. Morris, gently.

"They are such dirty things; they always smell and have vermin on them."

"A dog," said Mrs. Morris, "is something like a child. If you want it
clean and pleasant, you have got to keep it so. This dog's skin is as
clean as yours or mine. Hold still, Joe," and she brushed the hair on my
back the wrong way, and showed Mrs. Montague how pink and free from dust
my skin was.

Mrs. Montague looked at me more kindly, and even held out the tips of
her fingers to me. I did not lick them. I only smelled them, and she
drew her hand back again.

"You have never been brought in contact with the lower creation as I
have," said