MARGARET. 137

Dee, who would lie on each side of her while she told them all
sorts of things, laughing at her own nonsense and the serious
way in which it was received by her companions.

“Dee,” said she, “I wish I knew what you and Nanny
talk about; I am sure you do talk, and I dare say you gossip
dreadfully. I can fancy Nanny saying, ‘Dee, did you ever
see such airs as Mopsy gives herself? You would think her
the belle of the flock.’ And, Dee, you probably say, ‘ Yes,
we all know who is the belle.’ And then Nanny might say,
‘I saw one of the Turners’ dogs on the road yesterday, and
he told me he could fight you if you would let him.’ And
Dee
when I spoke of the Turners’ dogs, for you do despise
them.”

Dee wagged his tail and looked up in her face as if he

 

There, Dee! I knew you would toss your head

understood perfectly.

As it was now noon, Margaret took her lunch-basket and
settled down to enjoy her meal, dividing it with Dee, who
relished hugely the sharing of his mistress’s dinner; there was
bread and meat, a bottle of milk, and a piece of pie. After
the dinner was over, Margaret felt thoroughly rested, and
thought she would walk about a little. Looking around her,
she saw that a fog was settling in the valley below, and that it
was growing darker and darker. “TI do believe we shall have
a storm,” she said. “I must look for some shelter.” She
remembered a place where some overhanging rocks formed a