“‘And what has Long-Ears done, dear, without his milk?’
“Norman was silent, and his mouth twitched. Mrs. Meadow looked at the little dog, which lay still where he had been when she came in, his gentle eyes having, she thought, a curious sort of wistfulness in their note-taking.
“‘Won’t he eat meat?’
“Norman shook his head and said ‘No,’ under his breath.
“‘He’s a dainty little rascal,’ said the overseer; ’he was made to live on sweetmeats and sugarplums.’ And Mr. Swift walked on.
“‘I’ve brought him some milk,’ whispered Silky; and softly stooping down she uncovered her little tin-pail and tried to coax the dog to come to it. But Norman no sooner caught the words of her whisper and saw the pail, than his spirit gave way; he burst into a bitter fit of crying, and threw himself down oh the floor and hid his face.
“Mr. Swift came back to see what was the matter. Mrs. Meadow explained part to him, without telling of Norman’s keeping the money.
“‘O well,’ said Mr. Swift,—‘but he mustn’t make such a disturbance about it—it’s against all order; and feeding the dog, too, Lois!—but it’s a pretty creature. He’s hungry, he is! Well; it’s well we don’t have ladies come to the factory every day.’
“Silky’s other name was Lois.
“‘I’ll never do so again, Mr. Swift,’ said she, gently.