I have a faint remembrance of Eleanor and a brown retriever falling into each other's arms with cries of delight; but I was a good deal absorbed by the care of my own small person, under the heavy onslaught of dogs big and little.

I was licked copiously from chin to forehead by the more impetuous, and smelt threateningly at the calves of my legs by the more cautious of the pack.
They were subsiding a little, when Eleanor said, "Oh, cook, why did you shut them up?
Why didn't you let them come and meet us ?" "And how was I to know who it was at the door, Miss Eleanor ?" replied an elderly, stern-looking female, who, in her time, ruled us all with a rod of iron, the dogs included.

"Dear knows it's not that I want them in the kitchen.

The way them dogs behaves, Miss Eleanor, is _scandilus_." "Dear boys!" murmured Eleanor; on which all the dogs, who were settling down to sleep on the hearth, wagged their tails, and threatened to move.
"Much good it is me cleaning," cook continued, "when that great big brown beast of yours goes roaming about every night in the shrubberies, and comes in with his feet all over my clean floor." "It makes rather pretty marks, I think," said Eleanor; "like pot-moulding, only not white.

But never mind, you've me at home now to wipe their paws." "They've missed you sorely," said the cook, who seemed to be softening.
"I almost think they knew it was you, they were so mad to get out." "Dear boys!" cried Eleanor, once more; and the dogs, who were asleep now, wagged their tails in their dreams.
"And there's more's missed you than them," cook continued.