"Who killed him?"
"The horrid brute Pincher."
"Call Mr. Gilbert to shoot the monster."
"A' can't do it, ma'am," said Polly, very innocently. "A' ha' got but one arm."
"Hold your tongue you impudent jade. I have no doubt you set the other dog to worry him." Mrs. Gilbert took the dead dog in her arms and cried aloud.
Dorothy went up to her, and very kindly offered to examine the little animal, and ascertain whether he was really dead.
"Don't touch him!" screamed Sophy, pushing her rudely away. "I dare say you are glad of his death, and know more about it than you choose to say."
Dorothy drew back with an air of disgust. "I can excuse your grief and annoyance at the death of the poor dog, who was a pretty harmless little creature, but not your insulting those who never injured him. Perhaps if it were a fellow-creature, you would not feel the least distress about it."
"Martha," said Mrs. Gilbert, paying no heed to her, "go and call your master. I will be revenged on that ferocious beast. If he refuses to kill him, I will kill him myself."
Dorothy became suddenly aware of the danger that threatened her old favourite.