"'If anybody 'as got anything to say agin my character,' says Bob, 'I
wish as they'd say it to my face. I'm a pore, hard-working man, and my
character's all I've got.'

"'You're poorer than you thought you was then,' says Mr. Bunnett. 'I
wish you good arternoon.'

"'Good arternoon, sir,' ses Bob, very humble. 'I'm afraid some on 'em
'ave been telling lies about me, and I didn't think I'd got a enemy in
the world. Come on, Joseph. Come on, old pal. We ain't wanted here.'

"He shook 'is 'ead with sorrow, and made a little sucking noise between
'is teeth, and afore you could wink, his dog 'ad laid hold of the old
gen'leman's leg and kep' quiet waiting orders.

"'Help!' screams Mr. Bunnett. 'Call, 'im off! Call 'im off!'

"Bob said arterwards that 'e was foolish enough to lose 'is presence o'
mind for a moment, and instead o' doing anything he stood there gaping
with 'is mouth open.

"'Call 'im off!' screams Mr. Bunnett, trying to push the dog away. 'Why
don't you call him off?'

"'Don't move,' ses Bob Pretty in a frightened voice. 'Don't move,
wotever you do.'

"'Call him off! Take 'im away!' ses Mr. Bunnett.

"'Why, Joseph! Joseph! Wotever are you a-thinking of?' ses Bob, shaking
'is 'ead at the dog. 'I'm surprised at you! Don't you know Mr. Bunnett
wot is so fond of animals?'

"'If you don't call 'im off, ses Mr. Bunnett, trembling all over, 'I'll
have you locked up.'

"'I am a-calling 'im off,' ses Bob, looking very puzzled. 'Didn't you
'ear me? It's you making that noise that excites 'im, I think. P'r'aps
if you keep quiet he'll leave go. Come off, Joseph, old boy, there's a
good doggie. That ain't a bone.'

"'It's no good talking to 'im like that,' ses Mr. Bunnett, keeping quiet
but trembling worse than ever. 'Make him let go.'

"'I don't want to 'urt his feelings,' ses Bob; 'they've got their
feelings the same as wot we 'ave. Besides, p'r'aps it ain't 'is fault--
p'r'aps he's gone mad.'

"'HELP!' ses the old gen'leman, in a voice that might ha' been heard a
mile away. 'HELP!'

"'Why don't you keep quiet?' ses Bob. 'You're on'y frightening the pore
animal and making things worse. Joseph, leave go and I'll see whether
there's a biskit in my pocket. Why don't you leave go?'

"'Pull him off. Hit 'im,' ses Mr. Bunnett, shouting.

"'Wot?' ses Bob Pretty, with a start. 'Hit a poor, dumb animal wot don't
know no better! Why, you'd never forgive me, sir, and I should lose the