simply exasperating. Miss Belcher, a nice, harmless girl, jumped as if she had been shot.
"Oh, I am so sorry!" she cried; "doggie, poor doggie, are you hurt?" and kneeling down, she tried tenderly to soothe him. Toutou was not hurt, but he howled desperately. Judging by his actions he rather enjoyed getting people into trouble. In an instant Miss Semaphore swooped down, red and angry, seized her favourite, and casting a withering glance at the crestfallen Miss Belcher, carried him off to her own particular corner.
Everyone at 37, Beaconsfield Gardens, had a special chair or a favourite corner, and great was the indignation if anyone else took it.
"It was quite an accident," stammered Miss Belcher. "I never saw Toutou."
"Some people," replied Miss Semaphore, "have no eyes. They think it rather amusing to torture dumb animals, don't they, my precious?" As she spoke, she bestowed a kiss like a peck on the top of Toutou's ugly nose. The boarders all ceased work and listened attentively.
"But indeed, Miss Semaphore," cried poor Miss Belcher, almost crying, "it was not my fault."
