She was not in one of her stormy moods; she closed her chamber door quietly behind her and gently deposited Cloppy on his favorite cushioned chair. She then seated herself on a low ottoman directly in front of him, and resting her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees, she gazed intently at the dog. "It seems to me, Cloppy," she began, "that something is going to happen. You heard what Aunt Priscilla said, and I have learned my Aunt Priscilla well enough to know that when she clicks her teeth and waggles her head over her glasses like that she's made up her mind most especial firmly, and it is ours but to do or die. Now, Clops, the whole question is, shall we do or die?" Save for an occasional blink, the dog's brown eyes gazed straight through his wispy locks of hair at Ladybird, who gazed steadily back at him also through stray, straight wisps of hair, and also blinking now and then. "You see, Cloppy-dog, it's a crisis; like the heroes in the history book, you've got to cross the Rubicon or cut the Gordian knot, or something. Of course I sha'n't let you go away from me; you know that as well as I do. Why, I'd rather have _you_ than all the aunts in the world, yes, or uncles either, or man-servants, or maid-servants, or cattles or strangers within our gates. Why, Cloppy, if they tried to take you away from me, I'd--I'd kill them! Yes, I would! I'd kill them all, and burn the house down, and I'd--oh, I'd even break the buds off of Aunt Priscilla's Lady Washington geranium! Cloppy, don't sit there staring at me like that! Don't you think so too? Wouldn't you kill and murder and massacre anybody that tried to take me away from you? Stop it, Cloppy; _stop_ looking at me in that reproachful way! I'm not naughty; Aunt Priscilla is naughty: she says you've got to go--_go_, do you understand, GO!" By this time Ladybird was on her knees in front of the dog, alternately caressing and shaking him to emphasize her remarks; but Cloppy, being used to his emotional mistress, continued to gaze at her without sharing her excitement. "Dog! if you don't stop looking at me like that I'll tie a bandage over your eyes. I know perfectly well what you mean, but I won't pay a bit of attention to it: you mean that I ought not to let my angry passions rise; but I guess you would too if you had an Aunt Priscilla like mine! Suppose you had an old aunt dog with gray hair and spectacles, who wouldn't let you have _anything_ you wanted, wouldn't you get mad at her, I'd like to know? "Oh, I understand you; don't trouble yourself to put it into words: you mean that aunty does let me have some things that I want,--most things, in fact,--and you mean I'm a bad, ungrateful girl to act like this, and you mean that no decent dog would act so. Well, I suppose they wouldn't; I suppose I _am_ worse than a dog, or a cat, or a hyena. But I'm sorry, Cloppy, I _am_ sorry, and I guess I'll be good. Yes, I believe I will be good!"