m.
Sarah, a foolish, gossiping girl, who acted as nurse till better could
be found, was waiting on them, and by the table sat Darkie, the black
retriever, his long, curly back swaying slightly from the difficulty of
holding himself up, and his solemn hazel eyes fixed very intently on
each and all of the breakfast bowls. He was as silent and sagacious as
Sarah was talkative and empty-headed. The expression of his face was
that of King Charles I. as painted by Vandyke. Though large, he was
unassuming. Pax, the pug, on the contrary, who came up to the first
joint of Darkie's leg, stood defiantly on his dignity and his short
stumps. He always placed himself in front of the bigger dog, and made a
point of hustling him in door-ways and of going first down stairs. He
strutted like a beadle, and carried his tail more tightly curled than a
bishop's crook. He looked as one may imagine the frog in the fable would
have looked had he been able to swell himself rather nearer to the size
of the ox. This was partly due to his very prominent eyes, and partly to
an obesity favored by habits of lying inside the fender, and of eating
meals proportioned more to his consequence than to his hunger. They were
both favorites of two years' standing, and had very nearly been given
away, when the good news came of an English home for the family, dogs
and all.

Robert's tongue was seldom idle, even at meals. "Are you a Yorkshire
woman, Sarah?" he asked, pausing, with his spoon full in his hand.

"No, Master Robert," said Sarah.

"But you understand Yorkshire, don't you? I can't, very often; but mamma
can, and can speak it, too. Papa says mamma always talks Yorkshire to
servants and poor people. She used to talk Yorkshire to Themistocles,
papa said, and he said it was no good; for, though Themistocles knew a
lot of languages, he didn't know that. And mamma laughed, and said she
didn't know she did. Themistocles was our man-servant in Corfu," Robin
added, in explanation. "He stole lots of things, Themistocles did; but
papa found him out."

Robin now made a rapid attack on his bread-and-milk, after which he
broke out again,--

"Sarah, who is that tall gentleman at church, in the seat near the
pulpit? He wears a cloak like what the Blues wear, only all blue, and is
tall enough for a Life-guardsman. He stood when we were kneeling down,
and said, 'Almighty and most merciful Father,' louder than anybody."

Sarah knew who the old gentleman was, and