"Wat'th a welkin?" inquired the Vice.
"I'll bring one and make it ring for you, one of these days," was the reply. . . .
"‘The poor doggie does not seem to like being tied up,' said the Travelling M.P. (Perhaps he thought they had tied a pretty ribbon round Faithful Fido's neck and slipped the hook under it—or bought him a nice collar for the purpose.) Fido's howls were appalling. The more he tugged the more it hurt him.
"‘Naughty doggie!' said the Travelling M.P. 'He wants to run about and play.' However, the good gentleman realised that, even as the bleating of the kid excites the tiger, the yowling of the pi-dog must attract the crocodile. He hoped he would be able to shoot it before it got near enough to really frighten poor Fido. He was that sort of kind gentleman, you know. . . . Well, Fido howled and yowled and chy-iked and made a fearful row. So much so that he frightened Grandpa nearly out of his twenty-foot crocodile-skin, and caused him to bury himself in the mud at the bottom of his deep hole for a fortnight. He was a very sensitive and retiring
