But the girl did not move; she did not even turn her head to look at the dog, who stopped before he reached her and began to rush wildly around her, barking terribly.
We held our breath.

I tried to say "get out!" or "lie down!" but my tongue could not form the words.
"Can't you get up here ?" gasped Euphemia.
"I don't want to," said the girl.
The dog now stopped barking, and stood looking at Pomona, occasionally glancing up at us.

Pomona took not the slightest notice of him.
"Do you know, ma'am," said she to Euphemia, "that if I had come here yesterday, that dog would have had my life's blood." "And why don't he have it to-day ?" said Euphemia, who, with myself, was utterly amazed at the behavior of the dog.
"Because I know more to-day than I did yesterday," answered Pomona.

"It is only this afternoon that I read something, as I was coming here on the cars.

This is it," she continued, unwrapping her paper parcel, and taking from it one of the two books it contained.