She stood in the shop door, and looked lovingly down on us as we fawned on her.  “Good dogs,” she said, softly; “you shall have a present.”  We went behind her again, and she took us to a shop where we both lay beside the counter.  When we heard her ask the clerk for solid rubber balls, we could scarcely keep still.  We both knew what “ball” meant.

Taking the parcel in her hand, she came out into the street.  She did not do any more shopping, but turned her face toward the sea.  She was going to give us a nice walk along the beach, although it was a dark, disagreeable, cloudy day, when most young ladies would have stayed in the house.  The Morris children never minded the weather.  Even in the pouring rain, the boys would put on rubber boots and coats and go out to play.  Miss Laura walked along, the high wind blowing her cloak and dress about, and when we got past the houses, she had a little run with us.

We jumped, and frisked, and barked, till we were tired; and then we walked quietly along.

A little distance ahead of us were some boys throwing sticks in the water for two Newfoundland dogs.  Suddenly a quarrel sprang up between the dogs.  They were both powerful creatures, and fairly matched as regarded size.  It was terrible to hear their fierce growling, and to see the way in which they tore at each other’s throats.  I looked at Miss Laura.  If she had said a word, I would have run in and helped the dog that was getting the worst of it.  But she told me to keep back, and ran on herself.

The boys were throwing water on the dogs, and pulling their tails, and hurling stones at them, but they could not separate them.  Their heads seemed locked together, and they went back and forth over the stones, the boys crowding around them, shouting, and beating, and kicking at them.

“Stand back, boys,” said Miss Laura; “I’ll stop them.”  She pulled a little parcel from her purse, bent over the dogs, scattered a powder on their noses, and the next instant the dogs were yards apart, nearly sneezing their heads off.

“I say, Missis, what did you do?  What’s that stuff?  Whew, it’s pepper!” the boys exclaimed.

Miss Laura sat down on a flat rock, and looked at them with a very pale face.  “Oh, boys,” she said, “why did you make those dogs fight?  It is so cruel.  They were playing happily till you set them on each other.  Just see how they have torn their handsome coats, and how the blood is dripping from them.”

“’Taint my fault,” said one of the lads, sullenly.  “Jim Jones there said his dog could lick my dog, and I said he couldn’t—­and he couldn’t, neither.

“Yes, he could,” cried the other boy; “and if you say he couldn’t, I’ll smash your head.”

The two boys began sidling up to each other with clenched fists, and a third boy, who had a mischievous face, seized the paper that had had the pepper in it, and running up to them shook it in their faces.