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“Oh, grandmother!” interrupted Tom, “poor Chloe!”

“But I can’t give her to him. Don’t cry so, Tom! I’d sooner have my little goods sold, and lie upon the boards. I should not mind parting with her if she were taken good care of, but I never will give her to him.”

“Is this the first you have heard of the matter?” inquired my father; “you ought to have had notice in time to appeal.”

“I never heard a word till to-day.”

“Poulton seems to say that he sent a letter, nevertheless, and offers to prove the sending, if need be; it’s not in our division, not even in our county, and I am afraid that in this matter of the surcharge I can do nothing,” observed my father; “though I have no doubt but it’s a rascally trick to come by the dog. She’s a pretty creature,” continued be, stooping to pat her, and examining her head and mouth with the air of a connoisseur in canine affairs, “a very fine creature! How old is she?”

“Not quite a twelvemonth, sir. She was pupped on the sixteenth of last October, grandmother’s birthday, of all the days in the year,” said Tom, somewhat comforted by his visiter’s evident sympathy.

“The sixteenth of October! Then Mr. Poulton may bid good-bye to his surcharge; for unless she was six months old on the fifth of April, she cannot be taxed for this year–so his letter is so much waste paper. I’ll write this very night to the chairman of the commissioners, and manage the matter for you. And I’ll also write to Master Poulton, and let him know that I’ll acquaint the board if he gives you any farther trouble. You’re sure that you can prove the day she was pupped?” continued his worship, highly delighted. “Very lucky! You’ll have nothing to pay for her till next half-year, and then I’m afraid that this fellow Poulton will insist upon her being entered as a sporting dog, which is fourteen shillings. But that’s a future concern. As to the surcharge, I’ll take care of that A beautiful creature, is not she, Mary? Very lucky that we happened to drive this way.” And with kind adieus to Tom and his grandmother, who were as grateful as people could be, we departed.

About a week after, Tom and Chloe in their turn appeared at our cottage. All had gone right in the matter of the surcharge. The commissioners had decided in Mrs. King’s favour, and Mr. Poulton had been forced to succumb. But his grandmother had considered the danger of offending their good landlord Sir John, by keeping a sporting dog so near his coverts, and also the difficulty of paying the tax; and both she and Tom had made up their minds to offer Chloe to my father. He had admired her, and everybody said that he was as good a dog-master as Mr. Poulton was a bad one; and he came sometimes coursing to Ashley End, and then perhaps he would let them both see poor Chloe; “for grandmother,” added Tom, “though she seemed somehow ashamed to confess as much, was at the bottom of her heart pretty nigh as fond of her as he was himself. Indeed, he did not know who could help being fond of Chloe, she had so many pretty ways.” And Tom, making manful battle against the tears that would start into his eyes, almost as full of affection as the eyes of Chloe herself, and hugging his beautiful pet, who seemed upon her part to have a presentiment of the evil that awaited her, sate down as requested in the hall, whilst my father considered his proposition.

Upon the whole, it seemed to us kindest to the parties concerned, the widow King, Tom, and Chloe, to accept the gift. Sir John was a kind man, and a good landlord, but he was also a keen sportsman; and it was quite certain that he would have no great taste for a dog of such high sporting blood close to his best preserves; the keeper also would probably seize hold of such a neighbour as a scapegoat, in case of any deficiency in the number of hares and pheasants; and then their great enemy, Mr. Poulton, might avail himself of some technical deficiency to bring Mrs. King within the clutch of a surcharge. There might not always be an oversight in that Shylock’s bond, nor a wise judge, young or old, to detect it if there were. So that, upon due consideration, my father (determined, of course, to make a proper return for the present) agreed to consider Chloe as his own property; and Tom, having seen her very comfortably installed in clean dry straw in a warm stable, and fed in a manner which gave a satisfactory specimen of her future diet, and being himself regaled with plum-cake and cherry brandy, (a liquor of which he had, he said, heard much talk, and which proved, as my father had augured, exceedingly cheering and consolatory in the moment of affliction,) departed in much better spirits than could have been expected after such a separation. I myself, duly appreciating the merits of Chloe, was a little jealous for my own noble Dash, whom she resembled, with a slight inferiority of size and colouring; much such a resemblance as Viola, I suppose, bore to Sebastian. But upon being reminded of the affinity between the two dogs, (for Dash came originally from the Ashley End kennel, and was, as nearly as we could make out, grand-uncle to Chloe,) and of our singular good fortune, in having two such beautiful spaniels under one roof, my objections were entirely removed. Under the same roof they did not seem likely to continue. When sent after to the stable the next morning, Chloe was missing. Everybody declared that the door had not been opened, and Dick, who had her in charge, vowed that the key had never been out of his pocket But accusations and affirmations were equally useless–the bird was flown. Of course she had returned to Ashley End. And upon being sent for to her old abode, Tom was found preparing to bring her to Aberleigh; and Mrs. King suggested, that, having been accustomed to live with them, she would, perhaps, sooner get accustomed to the kitchen fireside than to a stable, however comfortable.