"The noise was bad enough," complained Laura, "but the names are terrible. I cannot say those words for my life, and you ought not to allow our servant to do so, either." "Dear child," answered the experienced mother, "one has to pass through much in this world which is unpleasant, but what grieves me most is the wanton attacks upon the dignity of women in their own houses. I shall say no more on the subject. I agree with you, that both the names by which the dogs are called are an insult to our neighbor. But if your father were to discover that behind his back we called them Ph[oe]bus and Azor, it would make matters worse." "No one at least must utter those other names who cares for my friendship," said Laura, decidedly, and entered into the court-yard. Gabriel was employing his leisure in making observations on the new comers. He was frequently attracted to the dogs' kennel in order to establish the certainty of the earthly nature of the strangers. "What is your opinion?" asked Laura, approaching him. "I have my opinion," answered the servant, peering into the interior of the shed, "namely, that there is something mysterious about them. Did you remark the song of those ravens the other night? No real dog barks like that; they whine and moan and occasionally groan and speak like little children. They eat like other dogs, but their mode of life is unusual. See, how they cower down, as if they had been struck on the mouth, because the sun shines on them. And then, dear young lady, the names!" Laura looked with curiosity at the beasts. "We will alter the names secretly, Gabriel; this one shall be called Ruddy." "That would certainly be better; it would at least not be an insult to Mr. Hahn, but only to the tenant of the basement." "What do you mean by that?" "The porter who lives over there is called Ruddy." "Then," decided Laura, "the red monster shall from henceforth be named The Other; our people shall call him Andres.[2] Tell this to the workmen in the factory." "Andres!" replied Gabriel. "The name will just suit him. The neighbors would dignify him with the name of Andreas if it were not too much honor to him." Thus were kind hearts occupied in thwarting the bad signification of the name. But in vain, for, as Laura had correctly noted in her diary, when the ball of mischief has been thrown amongst men, it mercilessly hits the good as well as the bad. The dog was supplied with the most inoffensive name that ever was given; but through a wonderful complication of circumstances, which bid defiance to all human sagacity, it happened that Mr. Hahn himself bore the name of Andreas. Thus the double name of the animal became a double affront to the neighboring house, and bad and good intentions mingled together in a thick, black soup of hatred.