"He is a very good dog," remarked Mr. Juxon. "He once did me a very good service." "How was that?" "I was riding in the Belgrade forest one summer. I was alone with Stamboul following. A couple of ruffians tried to rob me. Stamboul caught one of them." "Did he hurt him very much?" "I don't know--he killed him before the fellow could scream, and I shot the other," replied the squire calmly. "What a horrible story!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, turning pale. "Come here, Nellie--don't touch that dreadful dog!" "Do not be afraid--he is perfectly harmless. Come here Stamboul!" The huge beast obeyed, wagging his tail, and sat down at his master's feet, still looking rather wistfully at Nellie who had been playing with him. "You see," continued Mr. Juxon, "he is as quiet as a lamb--would not hurt a fly!" "I think it is dreadful to have such animals about," said Mrs. Goddard in a low voice, still looking at the dog with horror. "I am sorry I told you. It may prejudice you against him. I only meant to explain how faithful he is, that is all. You see a man grows fond of a creature that has saved his life." "I suppose so, but it is rather startling to see such an animal so near to one. I fear I am very nervous." "By the bye." said the squire with the bold irrelevancy of a man who wants to turn the subject, "are you fond of flowers?" "I?" said Mrs. Goddard in surprise. "Yes--very. Why?" "I thought you would not mind if I had the garden here improved a little. One might put in a couple of frames. I did not see any flowers about. I am so fond of them myself, you see, that I always look for them." "You are very kind," answered Mrs. Goddard. "But I would not have you take any trouble on my account. We are so comfortable and so fond of the cottage already--" "Well, I hope you will grow to like it even better," returned the squire with a genial smile. "Anything I can do, you know--" he rose as though to take his leave. "Excuse me, but may I look at that picture? Andrea del Sarto? Yes, I thought so--wonderful--upon my word, in a cottage in Billingsfield. Where did you find it?" "It was my husband's," said Mrs. Goddard. "Ah--ah, yes," said the squire in a subdued tone. "I beg your pardon," he added, as people often do, unconsciously, when they fancy they have accidentally roused in another a painful train of thought. Then he turned to go. "We dine at half-past seven, you know, so as to be early for Miss Nellie," he said, as he went out.