The quiet, dreary monotone in which he habitually spoke quickened a little under his present excitement.

As for Isabel, she was too deeply interested in Tommie's welfare to suspect that she was being made the victim of a stratagem.

She left the door and returned to Hardyman with eager eyes.
"What can I tell you, sir ?" she asked innocently.
Hardyman pressed his advantage without mercy.
"You can tell me what sort of dog he is ?" "Yes, sir." "How old he is ?" "Yes, sir." "What his name is ?--what his temper is ?--what his illness is?
what diseases his father and mother had ?--what--" Isabel's head began to turn giddy.

"One thing at a time, sir!" she interposed, with a gesture of entreaty.

"The dog sleeps on my bed, and I had a bad night with him, he disturbed me so, and I am afraid I am very stupid this morning.