Pomposity. 199

ters. But he only gazed about the room, which,
indeed, did look dreadful in the bright light of day.

“Pomp, Pomp,” he said, in a low blood-cur-
dling tone, and pointing first at the broken vases
and then at the wet paint which that miserable
little cur had scattered everywhere, ‘“ naughty
dog,” he continued, and then—then—he slapped
me!

I ran wildly to the picture, barking. I thought,
of course, that as soon as he saw those telltale
marks on the frame, Master would know who the
real culprit was. But alas, what do you think he
said ?

“Yes, I see, Pomp, you were barking at your
picture, thinking it was another dog, and for that
opinion I am much obliged, I am sure. But why,
why did you walk over my palette before you
stepped on the frame? No, Pomp, you need not
shake your head. I know you did it, for see, here
are the marks of your two guilty little paws!”

I was powerless, after this, to make him under-
stand the true facts of the case, although I never
would have believed that a man as intelligent as