finer quality of muscle than
the bulkier fellows.

The master took his breakfast with a good appetite that morning, but was
perhaps rather more quiet than usual. After breakfast he went up-stairs
and put on a light loose frock, instead of his usual dress-coat, which
was a close-fitting and rather stylish one. On his way to school he met
Alminy Cutterr, who happened to be walking in the other direction. "Good
morning, Miss Cutterr," he said; for she and another young lady had been
introduced to him, on a former occasion, in the usual phrase of polite
society in presenting ladies to gentlemen,--"Mr. Langdon, let me make y'
acquainted with Miss Cutterr;--let me make y' acquainted with Miss
Braowne." So he said, "Good morning"; to which she replied, "Good
mornin', Mr. Langdon. Haow's your haaelth?" The answer to this question
ought naturally to have been the end of the talk; but Alminy Cutterr
lingered and looked as if she had something more on her mind.

A young fellow does not require a great experience to read a simple
country-girl's face as if it were a signboard. Alminy was a good soul,
with red cheeks and bright eyes, kind-hearted as she could be, and it
was out of the question for her to hide her thoughts or feelings like a
fine lady. Her bright eyes were moist and her red cheeks paler than
their wont, as she said, with her lips quivering,--"Oh, Mr. Langdon,
them boys'll be the death of ye, if ye don't take caaer!"

"Why, what's the matter, my dear?" said Mr. Bernard.--Don't think there
was anything very odd in that "my dear," at the second interview with a
village belle;--some of those woman-tamers call a girl "My dear," after
five minutes' acquaintance, and it sounds all right _as they say it_.
But you had better not try it at a venture.

It sounded all right to Alminy, as Mr. Bernard said it.--"I'll tell ye
what's the mahtterr," she said, in a frightened voice. "Ahbner's go'n'
to car' his dog, 'n' he'll set him on ye 'z sure 'z y' 'r' alive. 'T's
the same cretur that haaef eat up Eben Squires's little Jo, a year
come nex' Faaestday."

Now this last statement was undoubtedly overcolored; as little Jo
Squires was running about the village,--with an ugly scar on his arm, it
is true, where the beast had caught him with his teeth, on the occasion
of the child's taking liberties with him, as he had been accustomed to
do with a good-tempered Newfoundland dog, who seemed to like being
pulled and hauled round by child