from his pocket produced a tiny, squirming ball of wool. The ball, on being set down on the floor, disclosed four wee paws, a dot of a tail, two huge ears, a short black nose, and an overwhelming tendency to tumble over on it.
Uttering feeble barks, the absurd little creature toddled up to Mrs. Carter’s ball of yarn that had fallen from her lap, tried to take it in his mouth, tangled himself up in it, broke the thread, and then stood meditatively viewing the ruin he had worked. For a moment Bess and her mother looked at each other in despair, and then they began to laugh. From that time the puppy’s destiny was an established fact.
Fuzz, as he was named, rapidly grew from the dimensions of a six-weeks-old puppy to three times the size of his ancestors. Though bought at a high price for his exceptionally small size, his long, silky blue hair, and his equally blue blood, it must be confessed that in all these respects Fuzz was weighed in the balance and found wanting. His silky blue coat was almost white, and, instead of sweeping the ground, as should the hair of a truly aristocratic Skye terrier, it curled in tight short rings
