V.

HOW THE BLACK DOG HAD HIS DAY.

"You've got the black dog on your shoulder, this morning; that's
what's the matter with you," said Wealthy.

This metaphorical black dog meant a bad humor. Eyebright had waked up
cross and irritable. What made her wake up cross I am not wise enough
to explain. The old-fashioned doctors would probably have ascribed it
to indigestion, the new-fashioned ones to nerves or malaria or a
"febrile tendency"; Deacon Bury, I think, would have called it
"Original Sin," and Wealthy, who did not mince matters, dubbed it an
attack of the Old Scratch, which nothing but a sound shaking could
cure. Very likely all these guesses were partly right and all partly
wrong. When our bodies get out of order, our souls are apt to become
disordered too, and at such times there always seem to be little imps
of evil lurking near, ready to seize the chance, rush in, fan the
small embers of discontent to a flame, make cross days crosser, and
turn bad beginnings into worse endings.

The morning's mischances had begun with Eyebright's being late to
breakfast;--a thing which always annoyed her father very much. Knowing
this, she made as much haste as possible, and ran downstairs with her
boots half buttoned, fastening her apron as she went. She was in too
great a hurry to look where she was going, and the result was that
presently she tripped and fell, bumping her head and tearing the skirt
of her frock half across. This was bad luck indeed, for Wealthy, she
knew, would make her darn it as a punishment, and that meant at least
an hour's hard work indoors on one of the loveliest days that ever
shone. She picked herself up and went into the sitting-room, pouting,
and by no means disposed to enjoy the lecture on punctuality, which
papa made haste to give, and which was rather longer and sharper than
it would otherwise have been, because Eyebright looked so very sulky
and obstinate while listening to it.

You will all be shocked at this account, but I am not sorry to show
Eyebright to you on one of her naughty days. All of us have such days
sometimes, and to represent her as possessing no faults would be to
put her at a distance from all of you; in fact, I should not like her
so well myself. She has been pretty good, so far, in this story; but
she was by no means perfect, for which let us be thankful; because a
perfect child would be an unnatural thing, whom none of us could quite
believe in or understand! Eyebri