it primitive in his methods of
showing his discomfort.

"He'll soon stop," said Bee, encouragingly. "He feels strange at
first."

But he didn't stop. The more familiar his surroundings became, the
more we passed horses and dogs he knew, the keener became his
humiliation at driving by in enervating luxury, where once he had
trotted pantingly in the dust and heat. His howl changed to a deep
bay, and the bay to a long-drawn wailing, which was so full of pain
that the passers-by made audible comments. As for me, I was afraid
every moment that we would be arrested by a member of the S. P. C. A.,
but fortunately the populace seemed to think we were on our way to the
veterinary surgeon for a dangerous operation.

"Poor fellow!" said one, "you can see he is injured by the way they are
holding him!"

"Ain't them ladies kind-hearted now to take that ugly-lookin' old
bulldog in that fine carriage to the doctor!" said a factory-girl.

Bee crimsoned.

"Stop laughing!" she said to me in a savage aside. "I wish I could
stuff my handkerchief down his throat. Won't he ever stop?"

"It seems not!" I answered, cheerfully. "And we really can't consider
that there is any more style to this manner of driving than if we
belonged to the _hoi polloi_ who drive with their husbands, and let
their dogs follow, can we?"

Bee gave me a look.

"I believe you are pinching him to make him howl," she said.

At that unjust accusation I took my arms away from Jack's neck, and
feeling the affectionate embrace of his lawful mistress relax, he
violently eluded Bee's, and with a flying leap he was out and away,
safely restored to his doggish dignity.

By this time quite a little crowd had collected, and Amos's shoulders
were shaking unmistakably. Both these things annoyed Bee. The crowd
was pitying her. Amos was laughing at her,--two things which could not
fail to vex. She can bear being envied to the verge of being wished a
violent death with equanimity, but to be pitied or ridiculed? Haughty
Bee! She forgot herself, and gave the order herself to drive fast, and
the way we drove back to Peach Orchard gave Jack something to do to
keep up with us. We may have lacked the style of our driving out, but
Bee said the pace was good for the sorrels. To me it savoured of the
pace of fugitives from justice.

This episode, unfortunate as it had proved, would not have dampened
Bee's ardour nor discouraged her in the least, had not Jack take