“Maybe I will, too,” said she, and she sat down by the road just outside the house and the Philosopher also sat down. A little puppy dog came from behind the house and approached them cautiously. Its intentions were friendly but it had already found that amicable advances are sometimes indifferently received, for, as it drew near, it wagged its dubious tail and rolled humbly on the ground. But very soon the dog discovered that here there was no evil, for it trotted over to the old woman, and without any more preparation jumped into her lap. The old woman grinned at the dog “Ah, you thing you!” said she, and she gave it her finger to bite. The delighted puppy chewed her bony finger, and then instituted a mimic warfare against a piece of rag that fluttered from her breast, barking and growling in joyous excitement, while the old woman fondled and hugged it. The door of the house opposite opened quickly, and a woman with a frost-bitten face came out. “Leave that dog down,” said she. The old woman grinned humbly at her. “Sure, ma’am, I wouldn’t hurt the little dog, the thing!” “Put down that dog,” said the woman, “and go about your business—the likes of you ought to be arrested.” A man in shirt sleeves appeared behind her, and at him the old woman grinned even more humbly. “Let me sit here for a while and play with the little dog, sir,” said she; “sure the roads do be lonesome—” The man stalked close and grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck. It hung between his finger and thumb with its tail tucked between its legs and its eyes screwed round on one side in amazement. “Be off with you out of that, you old strap!” said the man in a terrible voice. So the old woman rose painfully to her feet again, and as she went hobbling along the dusty road she began to cry.