"Killed Mrs. Gilbert's little poodle?"
"Ah, as dead as a door nail."
"I am sorry for it, very sorry. She will make an awful fuss about it, Polly. Did you see Pincher do it?"
"No, but Martha says a' did it. She oughter to know. See, she be coming in, crying an' roaring as if it wor a dead child."
Martha ran into the kitchen carrying the dead dog in her arms, screaming and shouting in a state of great excitement.
"Oh the precious Jewel? the darling pet! What will my mistress say? How shall I tell her? Oh, oh, oh."
Hearing from the next room the outcries of her servant, Mrs. Gilbert hurried in and demanded what all the noise was about.
"Oh, ma'am, just look here at your beautiful dog," sobbed Martha, holding up the little creature, from whose throat the blood was dripping all over the floor.
"Who has dared to ill use my dog?" cried Sophy Rushmere, not yet aware he was dead, and she turned and glared at Polly with the ferocity of a tigress.
"Oh, he is dead!" screamed Martha, "stone dead."