Methodical Mr. Moody, in submitting to be employed as bath-attendant upon Tommie, had not forgotten the interests of his mistress. He reminded her Ladyship that she had left her letter, with a bank-note inclosed in it, unsealed. Absorbed in the dog, Lady Lydiard answered, “Isabel is doing nothing, let Isabel seal it. Show Mr. Hardyman in here,” she continued, turning to Isabel, “and then seal a letter of mine which you will find on the table.” “And when you have sealed it,” careful Mr. Moody added, “put it back on the table; I will take charge of it when her Ladyship has done with me.” Such were the special instructions which now detained Isabel in the drawing-room. She lighted the taper, and closed and sealed the open envelope, without feeling curiosity enough even to look at the address. Mr. Hardyman was the uppermost subject in her thoughts. Leaving the sealed letter on the table, she returned to the fireplace, and studied her own charming face attentively in the looking-glass. The time passed--and Isabel’s reflection was still the subject of Isabel’s contemplation. “He must see many beautiful ladies,” she thought, veering backward and forward between pride and humility. “I wonder what he sees in Me?” The clock struck the hour. Almost at the same moment the boudoir-door opened, and Robert Moody, released at last from attendance on Tommie, entered the drawing-room. CHAPTER V. “WELL?” asked Isabel eagerly, “what does Mr. Hardyman say? Does he think he can cure Tommie?” Moody answered a little coldly and stiffly. His dark, deeply-set eyes rested on Isabel with an uneasy look. “Mr. Hardyman seems to understand animals,” he said. “He lifted the dog’s eyelid and looked at his eyes, and then he told us the bath was useless.” “Go on!” said Isabel impatiently. “He did something, I suppose, besides telling you that the bath was useless?” “He took a knife out of his pocket, with a lancet in it.” Isabel clasped her hands with a faint cry of horror. “Oh, Mr. Moody! did he hurt Tommie?” “Hurt him?” Moody repeated, indignant at the interest which she felt in the animal, and the indifference which she exhibited towards the man (as represented by himself). “Hurt him, indeed! Mr. Hardyman bled the brute--” “Brute?” Isabel reiterated, with flashing eyes. “I know some people, Mr. Moody, who really deserve to be called by that horrid word. If you can’t say ‘Tommie,’ when you speak of him in my presence, be so good as to say ‘the dog.’” Moody yielded with the worst possible grace. “Oh, very well! Mr. Hardyman bled the dog, and brought him to his senses directly. I am charged to tell you--” He stopped, as if the message which he was instructed to deliver was in the last degree distasteful to him. “Well, what were you charged to tell me?” “I was to say that Mr. Hardyman will give you instructions how to treat the dog for the future.” Isabel hastened to the door, eager to receive her instructions. Moody stopped her before she could open it.