dog doosn't know its business!" He referred to the dairyman's little dog, who had apparently quite forgotten the affectionate welcome he had given us on our arrival, and was now following at a respectful distance, doing his best to 'speed the parting guest' with a shower of little shrill barks, that seemed to tread on one another's heels.
"What is a dog's business?" laughed Sylvie. "Dogs ca'n't keep shops and give change!"
"Sisters' businesses isn't to laugh at their brothers," Bruno replied with perfect gravity.
"And dogs' businesses is to barknot like that: it should finish one bark before it begins another: and it shouldOh Sylvie, there's some dindledums!"
And in another moment the happy children were flying across the common, racing for the patch of dandelions.
While I stood watching them, a strange dreamy feeling came upon me: a railway-platform seemed to take the place of the green sward, and, instead of the light figure of Sylvie bounding along, I seemed to see the flying form of Lady Muriel; but whether Bruno
