“You wonder, perhaps, that I have such a little dog,” Uncle Theodore had said.

“I suppose I do,” she had answered.

“But, you see, it is not I who have chosen Jenny for my dog, but Jenny who has taken me as a master.  You would like to hear the story, Downie?” That name he had instantly seized upon.

Yes, she would like it, although she understood that it would be something irritating he would say.

“Well, you see, when Jenny came here the first time she lay on the knees of a fine lady from the town, and had a blanket on her back and a cloth about her head.  Hush, Jenny; it is true that you had it!  And I thought what a little rat it was.  But do you know when that little creature was put down on the ground here some memories of her childhood or something must have wakened in her.  She scratched, and kicked, and tried to rub off her blanket.  And then she behaved like the big dogs here; so we said that Jenny must have grown up in the country.

“She lay out on the doorstep and never even looked at the parlor sofa, and she chased the chickens, and stole the cat’s milk, and barked at beggars, and darted about the horses’ legs when we had guests.  It was a pleasure and a joy to us to see how she behaved.  You must understand, a little thing that had only lain in a basket and been carried on the arm!  It was wonderful.  And so when they were going to leave, Jenny would not go.  She stood on the steps and whined so pitifully and jumped up on me, and really asked to be allowed to stay.  So there was nothing for us to do but to let her stay.  We were touched by the little creature; it was so small, and yet wished to be a country dog.  But I had never thought that I should ever keep a lap-dog.  Soon, perhaps, I shall get a wife too.”

Oh, how hard it is to be shy, to be uneducated!  She wondered if Uncle had been very surprised when she rushed away so hurriedly.  But she had felt as if he had meant her when he spoke of Jenny.  And perhaps he had not at all.  But any way—­yes she had been so embarrassed.  She could not have stayed.

But it was not then “it” came, not then.

Perhaps it was in the evening at the ball.  Never had she had such a good time at any ball!  But if any one had asked her if she had danced much, she would have needed to reconsider and acknowledge that she had not.  But it was the best proof that she had really enjoyed herself when she had not even noticed that she had been a little neglected.

She had so much enjoyed looking at Maurits.  Just because she had been a little bit severe to him at breakfast and laughed at him yesterday, it was such a pleasure to her to see him at the ball.  He had never seemed to her so handsome and so superior.

He had seemed to feel that she would consider herself injured because he had not talked and danced only with her.  But it had been pleasure enough for her to see how every one liked Maurits.  As if she had wished to exhibit their love to the general gaze!  Oh, Downie was not so foolish!