lia felt an inward start. The dog had been given her by some one
very dear, and she saw at once by what perhaps unconscious association
of ideas it was probable the animal had been selected for her. Some
vague resemblance unmistakably existed between herself and the
red-haired setter, with his delicate long face and air at once noble
and mournful. She felt no inclination to resent the comparison in
itself, though she knew it had been meant ill-naturedly; but she
chafed under the sense of the power possessed by the first-comer to
belittle one at pleasure, if it be only in words.

The remark might have passed from her mind, as originating in
Judith's, but for an event forming a complement to it. Walking down
the main street with Beech, she came, as she approached the Emporium,
in sight of a bull-dog, hideous enough surely to take a first
prize--bow-legged, goggle-eyed, crooked-toothed, a stranger in the
village, where no dog had ever happened before who constituted a real
danger to Beech. He was decorated with a spiked collar and a
splashing cherry ribbon bow. Hurriedly Celia got her hand upon her
dog's collar and drew him to the other side of the road. The bull-dog
sat upon the top step of the Emporium stoop, sleepily blinking in the
sun, a goodly beast of his sort, in his loose soft coat of brindled
plush, but to Celia more hateful than Cerberus. "Whose is that brute?"
she asked a boy lounging near the village horse-trough, and heard what
she had expected, for she had not failed to notice Judith's cart in
waiting near the Emporium door. A flame of real hatred shot up within
her and burned earnestly for a moment. Those who have not a dog cannot
conceive the sensitiveness of the spot in their master's heart
reserved for them. The contemplation of this constant menace
henceforth to Beech, with the alternative of a confinement he had
never known, generated in Celia desires almost murderous toward the
heavy-jawed antagonist, over there. She seized the full reach of
Judith's clumsy attempt at _esprit_: Having pointed out the likeness
between Beech and his mistress, she had procured a pet resembling
herself, as it was her humour to suppose she appeared in the eyes of
Celia. She had succeeded this time to the extent of her intention in
embittering existence to Celia. A nervous fear lest there should be an
encounter between the proud, gentle Beech and that ruffian--the report
reached her that his facetious name was Punch--destro