"Oh, that is Tim; he ought by rights to be a house-dog, but he has taken a fancy to Spot, and insists on sharing his straw bed at night; they both have the run of the house by day--at least, as far as the hall and smoking-room are concerned. My mother hates dogs, and will not tolerate one in the drawing-room." "Surely, that is not one of your dogs," exclaimed Bessie, looking with some disfavor on an ugly white mongrel, with a black patch over one eye; her attention was attracted by the creature's ugliness. Evidently he knew he was no beauty, for, after uttering a short yelp or two in the attempt to join in the chorus of sonorous barks, he had crept humbly behind Richard, and sat on his haunches, looking up at him with a pathetically meek expression. "Oh, you mean Bill Sykes; yes, he is a pensioner of mine. Come along, Bill, and say good morning to your master." It was impossible to describe the change that came over the dog as Richard spoke to him in this kindly fashion; his whole body quivered with pleasure as he sprung up and licked Richard's hands. "What do you think, Miss Lambert? I found Bill one day tearing through Melton with a tin kettle tied to his tail, hunted by a pack of rascally school-boys; one of the little wretches had thrown a stone at him, and poor Bill was bleeding. I managed to stop him, somehow, and to free the poor beast from his implement of torture, and left him licking his wound by the roadside, while I caught two of the boys and thrashed them soundly. I reserved thrashing the others until a convenient season, but they all caught it. I read them a pretty lesson on cruelty to animals. Bill followed me home, and I have never parted with him since. The other dogs disdained his company at first, but now they tolerate him, and, on the whole, I think he leads a pleasant life. He knows he is of humble extraction, and so he keeps in the background, but he is a clever dog; he can walk across the yard on his hind legs--the gardener's boy taught him the trick. Now, then, Bill, walk like a gentleman." And Bill obediently rose on his hind legs and stalked across the yard with an air of dignity, followed by a fat, rollicking puppy, barking with all his might. Bill had just received his meed of praise when the gong sounded, and they had to hurry in to breakfast. They found Edna in a bewitching white morning dress. "I hope I am not late," observed Bessie, apologetically. "Mr. Sefton took me to see the dogs. I did so enjoy looking at them; they are such beautiful creatures." "Yes, especially Bill Sykes," returned Edna sarcastically. "Well, there is no accounting for tastes," with a critical look at Bessie's neat blue cotton. "I never venture in the yard myself, unless I have an old ulster on. I could not put on my dress again if all those scratchy paws had been over it. Richard does not train them properly; they all spring up and nearly knock me down in their clumsy gambols."