myself I confess that in congenial company I can hear
birds say anything, but that left to myself I am sometimes puzzled by a
parrot. And that is the reason why I am sceptical concerning Mrs.
Harrington's accomplishments in this field.

But while the birds about the Harringtons' home simply offend my regard
for the truth, the Harringtons' dog causes me acute bodily and mental
discomfort. He is of a spotted white, with a disreputable black patch
over one eye, and weighs, I should imagine, between eighty and ninety
pounds. During luncheon he takes his place under the table, and from
there emits blood-curdling howls with sufficient frequency to make
conversation extremely difficult. This he varies by nosing about the
visitor's legs and growling. I am not fond of dogs under the best of
circumstances. I always labour under the presumption that they will
bite. Their habit of suddenly dashing across the floor, in furious
pursuit of nothing in particular, upsets me. But an invisible dog under
a dining-room table is a dreadful experience. It is true that I managed
to give Mrs. Harrington a fairly rational account of the woman's
suffrage parade. But was she aware, as I sat there smiling
spasmodically, what agonies of fear were mine as I waited for those
white fangs under the table to sink into my flesh? If, under the
circumstances, I confused Harriet Beecher Stowe with Julia Ward Howe,
and made a bad blunder about woman's rights in Finland, am I so very
much to blame?

Not that the Harringtons are the worst offenders in this respect. There
is an old classmate, and a very dear friend, indeed, who lives on
Flushing Bay, and has a pair of hopelessly ferocious dogs that hold the
neighbourhood in terror. The only occasion on which they have been known
to show indifference to strangers was one night when burglars broke in
and stole some silver and a revolver. When I go out to Flushing, I
stipulate that the dogs shall be locked up in the cellar from ten
minutes before my train is due until ten minutes after I have left the
house. But it would be foolhardy to omit additional precautions. Hence I
always carry an umbrella with the ferrule sharpened to a point, and when
I am within a block of the house I stoop and pick up a large stone, and
go on my way, with all my senses acute, whistling cheerfully. It is odd
how people will put themselves out to keep a harmless, poor relation out
of the way of visitors, and never think of the much grea