Bev. Doctor, she don't want you.
Chris. Please, Madame, may I tell you what happened yesterday?
Mad. L. Yes, child, go on.
Chris. My grandfather has a dog that leads him about—poor old Spot—such a pet—
Enter Madame Aubrey.
Mad. A. A pet! are you talking of a pet?
Bev. Yes; but don't weep, Madame—it isn't a donkey. Go on, little girl.
Chris. Well, yesterday, we three—grandfather, Spot and I, were sitting near the stream, in the village, by the mill-dam, when some wicked boys—oh! such dreadful wicked boys, came by. They seized poor Spot and threw him into the water. He was nearly being crushed by the mill-wheel, when a dear, kind gentleman, who was riding by on a beautiful black horse—
Enter Manuel.
Oh! there he is. Oh, sir! I'm so glad I've found you.