“I heard that cur.”
Harry laid his arm over the dog’s neck, but made no answer.
“I told you,” continued Gray striding into the room—“I told you that I would knock out the brains of that creature if ever I heard it bark, or even whine too loudly.”
The boy held the dog tighter as Gray advanced and said,—
“Uncle, spare him this once—’twas my fault.”
“Pshaw!” cried Gray, “I tell you the cur shall die.”
A flush of colour came across the face of the boy as Gray spoke, and pushing the dog behind him, he drew his slim figure up to its full height, and confronted Gray with his dark, lustrous eyes, flashing with unusual brilliancy.
“Then I tell you he shall not die!” he cried firmly.
Gray for a moment quailed beneath the glance of that singularly beautiful child, and twice he tried to summon courage to meet that look of proud defiance ere he could accomplish it, then he said slowly,—
“So you are bold. How long is it since you have plucked up so much spirit?”