"No, just one little bit," said Harriet stretching out the plate.
Mr. Humphries laughed awkwardly and cut it.
"You will spoil your dog, you know," he said.
During this little bit of coquetry, on her part, Mr. Gage had been increasing in rage, but she passed close to him without seeming to be aware of his presence, and left the room.
Her dog was fastened up in a small summer-room that looked into the garden, because it had a fancy for quarrelling with one of Mr. Humphries' spaniels that he had brought with him.
Harriet unfastened the little sinner, and it bounded up and down like a ball. She put the plate on a ledge under the window, and began to cut the meat into small pieces. While she was thus employed, Mr. Gage came abruptly into the room, and stood before her.
"Take care of the dog," said Harriet, stooping down, and catching Donald by the collar; "he is apt to snap at strangers."
"Strangers!" exclaimed Mr. Gage, in great indignation. "This from you, Harriet! But you have deceived me—made me wretched long enough. It is well that all is at an end!"
Harriet stood up. To do her justice, she tried to look as grave as she could, though she had a great inclination to laugh.
"I did not give you credit, Sir, for knowing so much of your profession," she said, coolly; "you have learned, I see, that it is a better plan to attack than to defend."