Now Amelia’s mother’s acquaintances were so very well-bred and amiable, that they never spoke their minds to either the mother or the daughter about what they endured from the latter’s rudeness, wilfulness, and powers of destruction.  But this was not the case with the dogs, and they expressed their sentiments by many a growl and snap.  At last one day Amelia was tormenting a snow-white bulldog (who was certainly as well-bred and as amiable as any living creature in the kingdom), and she did not see that even his patience was becoming worn out.  His pink nose became crimson with increased irritation, his upper lip twitched over his teeth, behind which he was rolling as many warning R’s as Amelia’s mother herself.  She finally held out a bun towards him, and just as he was about to take it, she snatched it away and kicked him instead.  This fairly exasperated the bulldog, and as Amelia would not let him bite the bun, he bit Amelia’s leg.

Her mamma was so distressed that she fell into hysterics, and hardly knew what she was saying.  She said the bulldog must be shot for fear he should go mad, and Amelia’s wound must be done with a red-hot poker for fear she should go mad (with hydrophobia).  And as of course she couldn’t bear the pain of this, she must have chloroform, and she would most probably die of that; for as one in several thousands dies annually under chloroform, it was evident that her chance of life was very small indeed.  So, as the poor lady said, “Whether we shoot Amelia and burn the bulldog—­at least I mean shoot the bulldog and burn Amelia with a red-hot poker—­or leave it alone; and whether Amelia or the bulldog has chloroform or bears it without—­it seems to be death or madness every way!”

And as the doctor did not come fast enough, she ran out without her bonnet to meet him, and Amelia’s papa, who was very much distressed too, ran after her with her bonnet.  Meanwhile the doctor came in by another way, and found Amelia sitting on the dining-room floor with the bulldog, and crying bitterly.  She was telling him that they wanted to shoot him, but that they should not, for it was all her fault and not his.  But she did not tell him that she was to be burnt with a red-hot poker, for she thought it might hurt his feelings.  And then she wept afresh, and kissed the bulldog, and the bulldog kissed her with his red tongue, and rubbed his pink nose against her, and beat his own tail much harder on the floor than Amelia had ever hit it.  She said the same things to the doctor, but she told him also that she was willing to be burnt without chloroform if it must be done, and if they would spare the bulldog.  And though she looked very white, she meant what she said.

But the doctor looked at her leg, and found that it was only a snap, and not a deep wound; and then he looked at the bulldog, and saw that so far from looking mad, he looked a great deal more sensible than anybody in the house.  So he only washed Amelia’s leg and bound it up, and she was not burnt with the poker, neither did she get hydrophobia; but she had got a good lesson on manners, and thenceforward she always behaved with the utmost propriety to animals, though she tormented her mother’s friends as much as ever.