This was satisfactory information, for when they arrived at the hall door, the whole mansion was in outer darkness. Belle was sitting in the study, with a small French poodle in her lap, and three fox terriers stretched out before the fire, in various attitudes of luxurious repose. These latter animals had been the property of the late master of Noone, and actually enjoyed a legacy of five pounds each per annum, for the term of their natural lives--and of course it was Mrs. Redmond’s interest to prolong their days, though she did not care for dogs. Their names were respectively “Brown,” “Jones,” and “Robinson,” and they had each their distinctive characteristics. “Brown” was stout, elderly, and self-conscious; he liked his comforts, such as fire, a regular walk, and a good and punctual dinner. He was a _bon vivant_ and did not eat fat or vegetables--an habitué of the kitchen--and slept with the cook. “Robinson” was a young and very handsome animal, who was fond of admiration, and ladies and tea; was particular about his appearance, and had quite a fund of small affectations; he was a general favourite--even Mrs. Redmond was proud of “Robinson.” “Jones” was also young and handsome--white body, black and tan head--a mighty hunter, whose thoughts were centred on sport, and who cared not a straw for the cook--indeed his whole heart was given to Betty. He led a joyous, but by no means innocent, life, in the woods, and would sit over a rabbit hole for hours, and, when he was in full chase of poor bunny, his delighted barks made the plantations to ring. Many a time, he would return late at night, and lay his prey at Betty’s feet, gobble down his dinner, stretch his tired, muddy body before the fire, and there hunt in dreams! On this particular evening, all the dogs were at home, “laid out,” so to speak, on the hearth-rug, whilst Belle nursed “Mossoo” and devoured a battered novel, by the light of a cheap candle. “Mossoo,” a pampered, shivering, discontented little beast, was adored by his mistress--in fact, she belonged to him--not he to her! He was washed, trimmed, be-ribboned and caressed, fed on cream and chicken, and dainty dinners, with plenty of gravy. He had no sporting instincts, he disliked mice, was desperately afraid of cats and of wetting his feet, and the other dogs hated him, as boys in a family invariably hate the pet, the coward, and the sneak. He was accomplished too, degradingly accomplished; and as he went through his antics and stood upon his head, “Brown,” “Jones,” and “Robinson” sat and stared at him with grave and scornful faces, and seemed to glance at one another as much to say: “Did you _ever_ see such a fool?” However, as long as “Mossoo” had fresh cream and a soft pillow, and his mistress’s applause and devotion, he was above the opinion of his fellows.