ood girl for all that, with an
amount of love in her heart for her young mistress which words cannot
convey, and which it is no wonder, therefore, that Poopy herself could
not adequately express either by word or look.

"It's all very well for you to sit there and say `Hee! hee!'" cried
Alice, advancing to the fire-place; "but you must have made a dreadful
mark on your clean white frock. Get up and turn round."

"Hee! hee!" exclaimed the girl, as she obeyed the mandate.

The "Oh! oh!! oh!!!" that burst from Alice, on observing the pattern of
the pot neatly printed off on Poopy's garment, was so emphatic, that the
girl became impressed with the fact that she had done something wrong,
and twisted her head and neck in a most alarming manner in a series of
vain attempts to behold the extent of the damage.

"_What_ a figure!" exclaimed Alice, on recovering from the first shock.

"It vill vash," said Poopy, in a deprecatory tone.

"I hope it will," replied Alice, shaking her head doubtfully, for her
experience in the laundry had not yet been so extensive as to enable her
to pronounce at once on the eradicability of such a frightfully deep
impression. While she was still shaking her head in dubiety on this
point, and while Poopy was still making futile attempts to obtain a view
of the spot, the door of the kitchen opened, and Master Corrie swaggered
in with his hands thrust into the outer pockets of his jacket, his shirt
collar thrown very much open, and his round straw hat placed very much
on the back of his head; for, having seen some of the crew of the
_Talisman_, he had been smitten with a strong desire to imitate a
man-of-war's-man in aspect and gait.

At his heels came that scampering mass of ragged door-mat Toozle, who,
feeling that a sensation of some kind or other was being got up for his
amusement, joined heartily in the shout of delight that burst from the
youthful Corrie when he beheld the extraordinary figure in the
fireplace.

"Well, I say, Kickup," cried the youth, picking up his hat, which had
fallen off in the convulsion, and drying his tears, "you're a sweet
lookin' creetur, you are! Is this a new frock you've got to go to
church with? Come, I rather like that pattern, but there's not quite
enough of 'em. Suppose I lend a hand and print a few more all over you.
There's plenty of pots and pans here to do it; and if Alice will bring
down her white frock I'll give it a touch up too."

"How can you