"I can feel the difference, Mr. Tiddy, and I can smell. It seems to me all these daffodils have different scents."
"To me, they are alike," he admitted, "but I suppose they are not. Really, Peggy, you are a very clever little girl."
When they returned to the house they went by the back way, where, in the yard, they were met by a big, black-and-white smooth-haired sheep-dog, who sniffed at Peggy suspiciously at first. But when she ventured to extend her hand to him, he licked it with his great pink tongue, whilst a very soft expression crept into his amber eyes.
"He likes you, my dear," Mr. Tiddy said. "And he does not take to every one, let me tell you. He evidently intends to regard you as a friend."
"What is his name?" Peggy inquired, as she passed her hand over the dog's sleek head.
"Wolf. We gave him the name when he was a puppy, because he was such a lean, fierce-looking creature. He is a splendid house-dog; but he is not very sociable, as a rule. He seems to have taken a fancy to you, however."
"He knows I like him," Peggy said, as she caressed her new acquaintance, who continued to wag his tail amicably. "What a tall dog he is! Wolf—dear old Wolf!"
The animal gave a delighted cry, and Mr. Tiddy nodded his head approvingly.
"I'm glad he's taken to you," he said. "For you couldn't get a better protector than Wolf."
Peggy never forgot that first day at Lower Brimley. The afternoon she passed quietly in the house with Mrs. Tiddy, who wrote a long letter to her old school fellow in which were many messages from Peggy.