"Mercy on us! What's that?" Theodora gasped, as the little creature
shook himself with a vehemence which fairly hoisted him off his hind
legs, then flew at the nearest claw of the tiger skin and fell to
worrying it.
"That?" Cicely's tone was tinged with a pride almost maternal. "That's
Billy. He is a thoroughbred Yorkshire. Isn't he a dear?"
CHAPTER SIX
"Do you know where Billy is?" Theodora asked, coming into the library,
one evening.
Cicely glanced up from her book.
"He was here, just a few minutes ago."
"Patrick wants him."
"Who?"
"Patrick."
Cicely looked surprised and closed her book.
"What does Patrick want of him, Cousin Theodora?"
"Why, really, Cicely, he didn't tell me. Did you say he was here
just now?"
"Yes, the last I saw of him, he was asleep under the piano."
"Cicely! Oh, you mean the dog."
"Yes. Don't you?"
"No; I meant my husband."
"Oh, I haven't seen him since dinner." And Cicely tranquilly returned to
her book, while Theodora departed in search of Mr. Farrington.
"Cicely," she said, when she came back again; "I am sorry; but I am
afraid Billy's name will have to be changed."
"Which?" Cicely inquired, as her dimples showed themselves.
"Yours. Mine is the older and has first right to the name. Do you mind,
dear? It is horribly confusing and it startles me a little to hear that
my husband is asleep under the piano.
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