Mrs. Tyler was unmistakably vexed as she opened the door, and Norah was unmistakably startled, for Mrs. Tyler not only kept her teeth in a cup of water over night, but, to make it wave, she plaited her front hair in many, many tight, little braids (that was before crimping-pins), which looked like nothing so much as a bunch of nicely cleaned and neatly tied rats’ tails. “What is the meaning of all this to-do?” asked the lady. “Oh, Mu’m, its all that divil’s own dog’s doin’s! Him that I fed with me own two hands, last night, till his shape was gone intirely! And now she’s tored to pieces! The Saints be good to us!” “Do you know,” cried Mrs. Tyler, “what you are saying!” “I do the same!” replied Norah. “I’m a’saying that that dog ‘Bullinger’ has tored her to pieces, and she’s as dead as any mack’rel!” “Who is dead, Norah?” “Why, Miss Dinah, poor thing!” “What!” Mrs. Tyler stepped outside and quickly closed the door behind her. She took Norah by the wrist, gave her a shake, and asked in a low tone: “What’s that about Dinah?” With a burst of excited tears, Norah repeated: “She’s dead, M’um, as dead as any of them nasty cats down there! And I thought I’d come and tell you, M’um, and if you please, M’um, before the young lady finds it out, I’ll just be leavin’ me place! No M’um, you needn’t give me no character! I’ll just be goin’ peaceable-like, without any character at all!” And long and earnest were Mrs. Tyler’s entreaties, and many were the promises she made of protection from the wrath to come, ere Norah could be induced to light the kitchen fire, her first unwilling step toward getting breakfast ready. Then, white and trembling, Mrs. Tyler called my mother. They went forth and saw Norah had told the truth. They returned and held a consultation. Mrs. Tyler was for mad haste and another Dinah! Mother was positive the deception could not be carried out on such short notice, and a discovered attempt would add fury to the storm. But Mrs. Tyler insisted, and together the two women worked wildly, in the hope of recreating Dinah. With dripping brows and trembling fingers they were fastening on her boots, when shrill and clear came the cry of “Dinah! Where’s my peshous Dinah? I want her!” Truly we all wanted her at that moment! I was scrambling into my clothes as fast as I could, when through the open door I caught a glimpse of little Marie; the next instant there was a cry of indignation, followed by the words: “What’s that? What ugly fool thing’s that--dressed up just like my Dinah? Who’s been here already?” And Mrs. Tyler tremulously cooed that “No one has been here, darling--it is not even time for breakfast yet.”