finding we had done our business in
good time, we decided to walk to the next station--Cleeve--instead of
waiting for the train at Cheltenham. We asked a native the way, who
replied with great contempt, "Cleeve station? Oh, I wouldn't walk to
Cleeve to save tuppence!"

One of our ventures in the way of pets was a well-bred poodle; he was
very amiable, handsome, and clever, but exceedingly mischievous. He
thought it great fun to pull up neatly written and carefully disposed
garden labels and carry them away to the lawn, for which, though a
nuisance, he was forgiven; but his next achievement was a more serious
matter. Finding his way about the village he would take advantage of
an open door to explore the cottage larders and when a chance offered,
would make off with half a pound of butter or a cherished piece of
meat and bring his plunder to my house in triumph. He was succeeded by
"Trump," a Dandie Dinmont, a very charming dog with a delightful
disposition, and perfectly honest until my elder daughter acquired a
fox terrier, "Chips," well-bred but highly nervous. Chips was a born
sportsman and most useful so long as he confined his activities to
rats and was busy when the thrashing-machine was at work, but when he
took to corrupting Trump's morals he required watching. Trump would be
lying quietly in the house or garden as good as possible, when the
insinuating tempter would find him, whisper a few words in his ear,
and off they went together. It was plainly an invitation, and later a
dead duckling or chicken would show where they had spent their time.
Trump became as bad as Chips and had to be given away. Chips was very
sensitive to discordant sounds, he must have had a musical ear; his
chief aversion was the sound of a gong, the beater for which was too
hard and, unless very carefully manipulated, produced a jangle. My
hall was paved with hexagonal stone sections called "quarries," which
appeared to intensify the discordance. Chips felt it keenly, and would
stand quite rigid for some minutes until the last reverberation and
its effect had passed off. He was uncertain in temper and disliked
some of the villagers. An old man complained that he had been bitten,
and told me with great feeling, "Folks say that if ever the dog goes
mad, I shall go mad too." I had much difficulty in appeasing him and
assuring him that there was no truth in the statement.

How shall I do justice to the infinite variety of "Wendy," the daint