“One thing more, Bess,” said her father seriously. “If you start on this, you must make up your mind not to give up all your time to the boy, even if he does want you. You must go out, and walk, and make calls, as much as ever. You are not going to turn hermit for a year in your devotion to one small boy, however much good you may do him. And it would not do him good, either. He must grow self-reliant and unselfish, and not feel that he must be amused and waited on every moment.”
As if to add his opinion to the family discussion, Fuzz, whose attention was caught by the serious tones of their voices, jumped out of his basket, and, coming to the side of his mistress, sat up on his haunches, and waved his small paws in the air, as he swayed unsteadily from side to side in his eagerness.
“What is it, Fuzz?” asked Rob, leaning over to pat his head.
Fuzz only replied with a snarl so emphatic that it showed his very back teeth, and then turned again to Bess, and raised his paws higher than ever.
“Bess, that dog grows crosser every day,”
