"Wait till the next time," I laughed. At that moment I heard a scratching at the study door, which opens upon the chapel hall. I opened it and took Mouse gently by the collar. "Bess," I said, while I held on tightly, "the introduction must be made, but with tact," and I and Mouse returned together. I put the puppy on the rug. Mouse looked at it sadly and then walked severely away. "Why does she behave like that?" asked Bess. "See, Mouse is whining and wants to go out." "She is jealous," I said. "Why should she mind?" "Think, Bess," I replied, "what would you say if there came here a new baby, a new helpless little thing. Might it not be just a little bit of a trial to you, don't you think, when you saw all the world running about to welcome it, cake, tea, milk, cream, all ordered for it at once? We none of us like being put in the shade, not even Mouse." Bess looked at me, and then putting the pug down, she cast her arms effusively round the great hound's neck. "You must forgive my little pup," she said coaxingly, "and not hate presents, even if they are for other people," and a shower of kisses followed. [Illustration: "MOUSE" AT HOME.] [Illustration: "MOUSE" ON A VISIT. _Photos by Miss Gaskell._] Mouse was mollified; she looked at me gravely. He has not the first place, she seemed to say, and she came and laid her great head solemnly on my knees. "She knows," said Bess, "that not even Prince Charming can put her nose out of joint." Mouse watched the little pug out of the corner of her eye, but with more sadness than malice. Bess fed her with slices of cake, whilst the pug approached her future gigantic companion. "All friends now," Bess whispered. "Nobody now to get nice but Nana; but nurses always take longer to forgive than dogs." [Sidenote: NANA IS KIND] In the evening I stole upstairs and found Prince Charming sleeping in his little basket by Bess's bed. Apparently old Nana had yielded to his charms, or else was reconciled to his having a nursery existence. She got up from her sewing and said with a smile on her good old face, "Bless her little heart, how it do please her, the pup; but then she must have what she has a mind to." After this, I had a quiet hour with my books, and I took down for the last half-hour a volume of Montaigne. What delightful company he is, always bright and cheery, full of knowledge, and yet always so human. I came to the passage which Madame de Sévigné always said brought tears to her eyes. I refer to the "affection of the Mareschal de Montluc for his son who died in the island of Madeira."