He wagged an ingratiating tail at her approach.

It was evident that in her hand the whip had no terrors for him.

He crept fawning to her feet.
She stooped over him, fondling his head.

"Oh, poor boy! Poor boy!" she said.
The dog's master came and stood beside her.

"He'll be all right," he said, in a tone of half-surly apology.
"I'm afraid Mike has bitten him," she said.