are for
terriers, Miss Lambert? because Spot is considered a perfect beauty.
Look at his coat; it is like satin."

"And that knowing little fellow, what is his name?" and Bessie pointed
to a very small black and tan terrier, who sat up and begged at once.

"Oh, that is Tim; he ought by rights to be a house-dog, but he has taken
a fancy to Spot, and insists on sharing his straw bed at night; they
both have the run of the house by day--at least, as far as the hall and
smoking-room are concerned. My mother hates dogs, and will not tolerate
one in the drawing-room."

"Surely, that is not one of your dogs," exclaimed Bessie, looking with
some disfavor on an ugly white mongrel, with a black patch over one eye;
her attention was attracted by the creature's ugliness. Evidently he
knew he was no beauty, for, after uttering a short yelp or two in the
attempt to join in the chorus of sonorous barks, he had crept humbly
behind Richard, and sat on his haunches, looking up at him with a
pathetically meek expression.

"Oh, you mean Bill Sykes; yes, he is a pensioner of mine. Come along,
Bill, and say good morning to your master."

It was impossible to describe the change that came over the dog as
Richard spoke to him in this kindly fashion; his whole body quivered
with pleasure as he sprung up and licked Richard's hands.

"What do you think, Miss Lambert? I found Bill one day tearing through
Melton with a tin kettle tied to his tail, hunted by a pack of rascally
school-boys; one of the little wretches had thrown a stone at him, and
poor Bill was bleeding. I managed to stop him, somehow, and to free the
poor beast from his implement of torture, and left him licking his wound
by the roadside, while I caught two of the boys and thrashed them
soundly. I reserved thrashing the others until a convenient season, but
they all caught it. I read them a pretty lesson on cruelty to animals.
Bill followed me home, and I have never parted with him since. The other
dogs disdained his company at first, but now they tolerate him, and, on
the whole, I think he leads a pleasant life. He knows he is of humble
extraction, and so he keeps in the background, but he is a clever dog;
he can walk across the yard on his hind legs--the gardener's boy taught
him the trick. Now, then, Bill, walk like a gentleman." And Bill
obediently rose on his hind legs and stalked across the yard with an air
of dignity, followed by a fat, rollicking puppy, barking with al