He continued his advance and then, being only a fraction of an inch from Mr.Jellybrand's tempting gleaming black trousers, he stopped, crouched like a tiger, and with teeth still bared continued his kettle-like reverberations.

Aunt Amy, who hated dogs, loved Mr.Jellybrand, and was not in the least sentimental when her personal safety was in danger, cried in a shrill voice: "But take it away.

Take it away.

Alice, tell him.

It's going to bite Mr.Jellybrand." The dog raised one eye from his dreamy contemplation of the trousers and glanced at Aunt Amy; from that moment may be dated a feud which death only concluded.