he hard look was on his face, and to my faint plea, "The poor dog!"

"The dog will do very well." He went decisively out of the way of
further persuasions, and when a formal note of invitation arrived, he
said Eustace and I might go, but he should not. He had something to do
at the potteries; and as to the dog, the less it was meddled with the
better.

"I know you hate black dogs," said Eustace; "I only wonder you ever
touched it."

Harold's brow lowered at this, and afterwards I asked Eustace to
account for the strange dislike. He told me that the dogs at the store
had run yelping after the buggy on that fatal drive, and this and the
melancholy howl of the dingoes had always been supposed to be the cause
of the special form of delirious fancy that had haunted Harold during
the illness following--that he was pursued and dragged down by a pack
of black hounds, and that the idea had so far followed him that he
still had a sort of alienation from dogs, though he subdued it with a
high hand.

He would still not go with us to Lake House, for go we did. An
invitation was stimulating to Eustace, and though I much disliked the
women, I knew we could not afford to reject an advance if we were not
to continue out of humanity's reach.

So I went, and we were made much of in spite of the disappointment.

Had not Mr. Harold Alison been so kind as to come over both Sunday and
Monday morning and see to poor Nep in his kennel before they were down?
Oh, yes, they had heard of it from the stable-boy, and had charged him
to take care the gentleman came in to breakfast, but he could not
persuade him. Such a pity he was too busy to come to-day!

Eustace gave learned and elaborate opinions on Nep, and gained the
hearts of the ladies, who thenceforth proclaimed that Mr. Alison was a
wonderfully finished gentleman, considering his opportunities; but Mr.
Harold was at the best a rough diamond, so that once more his conquest
had been for Eustace rather than for himself. They showed me, in
self-justification, letters from their relations in Melbourne, speaking
of the notorious Harry Alison as a huge bearded ruffian, and telling
horrid stories of his excesses in no measured terms. Of course we
denied them, and represented that some other man must have borne the
same name, and gratitude made them agree; but the imputation lay there,
ready to revive at any time. And there had been something in the whole
affair that had not a happy ef