Dreadful Suspicions aroused in Anxious Bosoms¹.

When Miss Peppy came down to breakfast next morning she found that she was the first of the household to make her appearance. This, however, was the natural consequence of her commendable² desire to be always in good time—a desire which resulted in her being at least a quarter of an hour too soon for everything, except on those occasions, of course, when she over-slept, or was detained by unavoidable circumstances.

On the present occasion Miss Peppy, having had a remarkably³ good night’s rest, felt placid⁴, and looked serene⁵. She passed the spare quarter of an hour in perambulating the room, looking at the books and pictures, smoothing her cuffs⁶, arranging her cap, and paying marked attention to a beautiful little dog which was Bella’s own particular pet, and the colonel’s particular abhorrence⁷, because of its tendency to bark suddenly, sharply, and continuously at every visitor who entered the house.

Rosebud⁸, (for thus was it misnamed), seemed to be, however, in no mood to receive attentions that morning. It was evidently ill at ease, without apparently⁹ knowing why.

“Did it growl¹⁰, then?” said Miss Peppy in a reproachful tone, as she stooped to pat the head of the spoiled creature. “Ah, it mustn’t growl, for that is naughty, you know, darling Rosebud. Eh! doing it again? Oh! bad little snarley-warley, growly-wowly. Doesn’t it know that the poet says ‘dogs delight to bark and bite?’ and that—that—he means that they shouldn’t delight to do such naughtinesses, although, after all, why they shouldn’t when it’s natural to them I don’t know; and, besides, how does he know that they delight to do it? I never saw them look delighted in my life; on the contrary, they’re very fierce, are they not, Rosebud? especially the big ones that sometimes try to worry you. How they can ever want to worry such a pitty-itty, dear, naughty growly-wowly, snarley-warley as you, is quite beyond my comprehension; but then, you see, we live in a world of puzzles, you and I, Rosebud, and so it’s of no use being puzzled, because that does no good, and only worries one. Don’t it, deary sweety petty? Well, you can’t answer of course, though I know that you understand every word I say.”

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