d with a stolen visit to Bulldog's rabbits. "Nestie," he
murmured to himself, as he remembered that little Englishman's prodigal
imagination, "is a maist extraordinary leear, but he said 'as sure as
death.'"

"Why, Speug, is that you? You ought to have opened the door. Come along
and shake hands with the master; he's just l-longing to see you." And
Speug was dragged along the walk between the gooseberry bushes, which in
no other circumstances would he have passed unnoticed, and was taken up
to be introduced with the air of a dog going to execution. He heard
someone coming down the walk, and he lifted up his eyes to know the
worst, and in that moment it appeared as if reason had deserted the
unhappy Speug. It was the face of Bulldog, for the like of that
countenance could not be found on any other man within the United
Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Yes, it was Bulldog, and that
Speug would be prepared to swear in any court of justice. The nose and
the chin, and the iron-grey whiskers and hair, and above all those
revolving eyes. There could not be any mistake. But what had happened to
Bulldog's face, for it was like unto that of another man? The sternness
had gone out of it, and--there was no doubt about it--Bulldog was
smiling, and it was an altogether comprehensive and irresistible smile.
It had taken the iron lines out of his face and shaped his lips to the
kindliest curve, and deprived his nose of its aggressive air, and robbed
the judicial appearance of his whiskers, and it had given him--it was a
positive fact--another pair of eyes. They still revolved, but not now
like the guns in the turret of a monitor dealing destruction right and
left. They were shining and twinkling like the kindly light from a
harbour tower. There never was such a genial and humoursome face, so
full of fun and humanity, as that which looked down on the speechless
Speug. Nor was that all; it was a complete transformation. Where were
the pepper-and-salt trousers and the formal black coat and vest, which
seemed somehow to symbolise the inflexible severity of Bulldog's reign?
and the hat, and the gloves, and the stick--what had become of his
trappings? Was there ever such a pair of disreputable old slippers, down
at the heel, out at the sides, broken at the seams, as those that
covered the feet of Bulldog in that garden. The very sight of those
slippers, with their suggestion of slackness and unpunctuality and
ignorance of all useful kno