“Couldn't it catch fire--by accident, I mean, miss--some evening after dark?” whispered Terry, confidentially. “Them 's materials that would burn easy! for, upon my conscience, if it goes on much longer there won't be a sarvant will stay in the sarvice. They had little Tom Regan holding a dish of charcoal so long that he tuk to his bed on Friday last, and was never up since; and Jinny Moore says she 'd rather lave the place than wear that undacent dress; and whist, there's murder goin' on now inside!” And with that the old fellow waddled off with a speed that seemed quite disproportionate to his years. While Mary was still hesitating as to what she should do, the door suddenly opened, and a man in a mediaeval costume rushed out, tugging after him a large bloodhound, whose glaring eyeballs and frothy mouth betokened intense passion. Passing hurriedly forward, Mary beheld Lady Dorothea bending over the fainting figure of a short little man, who lay on the floor; while her uncle, tottering under a costume he could barely carry, was trying to sprinkle water over him from an urn three feet in height. “Mr. Crow has fainted,--mere fright, nothing more!” said Lady Dorothea. “In stepping backward from the canvas he unluckily trod upon Fang's paw, and the savage creature at once sprung on him. That stupid wretch, Regan, one of your favorites, Miss Martin, never pulled him off till he had torn poor Mr. Crow's coat, clean in two.”. “Egad, if I had n't smashed my sceptre over the dog's head the mischief wouldn't have stopped there; but he 's coming to. Are you better, Crow? How do you feel, man?” “I hope you are better, sir?” said Lady Dorothea, in an admirable blending of grand benevolence and condescension. [Illustration: 080] “Infinitely better; supremely happy, besides, to have become the object of your Ladyship's kind inquiries,” said the little man, sitting up, and looking around with a very ghastly effort at urbanity and ease. “I never knew Fang to bite any one,” said Mary. “Does n't she, by jingo!” exclaimed the artist, who with difficulty caught himself in time before he placed his hand on the supposed seat of his injuries. “She shall be muzzled in future,” said Lady Dorothea, haughtily, repressing the familiar tone of the discussion. “I think--indeed, I feel sure--I could get her in from memory, my Lady; she 's a very remarkable creature, and makes an impression on one.” As he uttered these words ruefully, he lifted from the floor the fragment of his coat-skirt, and gazed mournfully at it. “I suppose we must suspend proceedings,” said Lady Dorothea; “though really it is a pity to lose the opportunity of Miss Martin's presence,--an honor she so very rarely accords us.”