And just then the front-door _did_ bang, and the pagoda trembled; for it was standing at the very edge of the chiffonnier, and one of the little black, carved claw-feet of its stand was actually overhanging the chiffonnier edge. 'I _must_ stand it steady,' said Fina. 'If I go and tell Miss Patty it may tumble off before I get back.' So she went quickly in and took the glass case and stand and pagoda very carefully in her hands to move them back to a safe place. It was this very moment that the foxhound puppy chose for rushing in--all wriggle and bark and clumsy paws--and plunging between Fina's feet. She reeled, staggered, and she, the puppy, the stand, the glass case, and the precious pagoda, all went down together in a crushing heap. When Fina picked herself up the puppy's tail was just disappearing round the door, and at her feet lay a scattered heap of splintered ivory and glass, the hopeless ruins of the beautiful pagoda. Her heart seemed to stand still, and then began to beat so hard and fast that she felt as though she had a steam-engine in her chest. Her hands trembled so much that she could hardly pick up the pieces; but she did begin to pick them up. 'Perhaps it could be mended,' she said, 'with glue or white of egg, like nurse did the china basin; only the pieces are so small and chippety, some of them, that I don't see how you could ever fit them together. And Miss Patty will be in in a minute! Oh, I wish I was somebody else and not me! Oh, whatever will she say?' Among the shivered splinters of ivory the little gold bells were scattered. 'But what's that?' said Fina. 'It's not a bell or----' She picked whatever it was up from among the shattered ivory and glass. It was a gold ring, thick and beautiful, with a strange design on it like on the sides of tea-caddies. She slipped it on her hand to keep it safe while she went on with the dismal work of picking up the pieces. And then, suddenly, the dreadfulness of the deed she had done--though quite the puppy's fault, and not hers at all--came over her. She began to breathe quickly and then to make faces, and in a moment she was sobbing and sniffing, and rubbing her wet eyes with her knuckles, still dirty from her politeness in letting the puppy choose what game she and it should play at. She was roused from her crying by a voice, and it was not Miss Patty's voice. It said: 'Your servant, miss. What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?' She took her knuckles out of her eyes, and saw, from between her very dirty eyelids, a tall footman who was bowing respectfully before her. He was dressed wonderfully in green satin--his large and lovely legs wore white silk stockings, and his hair was powdered till it was as white as the inside of a newly-sheared fleece. [Illustration: '"Your servant, Miss. Do I understand that you order me to mend this?"'--Page 207.]