“That’s not Chico; that’s a nasty, horrid, yellow cur. Chico was black. You naughty boy, Jock, you’ve been and changed my dog.”
“Has Midas changed him to gold?” cried Babie.
“Ah,” said Bobus, meaningly.
“You’ve done it then, Bobus! You’ve put something to him.”
“I haven’t,” said Bobus, “but he’s been licking himself all the way home. Well, we all know green is the sacred colour of the Grand Turk.”
“No! You don’t mean it!” said Allen, catching up the dog and holding him to the lamp, while Janet observed that he was a sort of chameleon, for his body, which had been black, was now yellow, and his chops which had been tan, had become black.
Elvira began to cry angrily, still uncomprehending, and fancying Bobus and Jock had played her a trick and changed her dog; Allen abused the horrid little brute, and the more horrid man who had deceived him; and Armine began pitying and caressing him, seriously distressed lest the poor little beast should have poisoned himself. Caroline herself expected to have heard that he was dead the next morning, and would have felt more compassion than regret; but, to her surprise and Allen’s chagrin, Chico made his appearance, very rhubarb-coloured and perfectly well.
“I think,” said Elvira, “I will give Chico to grandpapa, for a nice London present.”
Everybody burst out laughing at this piece of generosity, and though the young lady never quite understood what amused them, and Allen heartily wished Chico among the army of dogs at River Hollow, he did somehow or other remain at the Folly, and, after the fashion of dogs, adopted Jock as the special object of his devotion.
Ellen came in, expecting to regale her eyes with the newest fashions. Or were they all coming down from the dressmaker?