meanwhile raised in protest against his durance vile. Two years fraught with bitter experience had taught Mrs. Carter and Bess that the dog’s will was law, and when once his bark was heard the person nearest him hurried to do his bidding. Such was Fuzz, who, while we have been making his acquaintance, had retired, ball and all, into his basket by the fire, where he made his bed by pawing and mouthing his rug into a lump in one corner, and then settled himself to his well-earned repose, occasionally opening one eye and growling sleepily when the fire gave an unusually loud crackle.
For a long time the mother and daughter sat in the fitful light, talking of different matters, until Bess once more spoke of Fred.
“Doesn’t it seem hard and cruel, mother, to just shut out that active boy from everything he most enjoys? I can’t see any cause for it at all; and yet there can be no mistake.”
“Poor little boy!” said Mrs. Carter, gently pushing her daughter’s hair back from her face. “He has a hard life before him, and no one to help him bear it, though he will have everything that money can give. His father and
