"You see I have been giving him lessons," she said, as he brought back the seat he had chosen.
Isaacs looked at the queer small beast sitting up against the boards under the window, his brush tail curled round him, and his head turned inquiringly on one side.
"He seems to be learning manners, at all events," said my friend.
"Yes; I think I may say now, with safety, that his bark is worse than his bite."
"I am sure you could not have said so the last time I came. Do you remember what fearful havoc he made among my nether garments? And yet he is my godchild, so to speak, for I gave him into your care, and named him into the bargain."
"Don't suppose I am ungrateful for the gift," answered Miss Westonhaugh. "Snap! Snap! here! come here, darling, to your mistress, and be petted!" In spite of this eloquent appeal Snap, the baby jackal, only growled pleasantly and whisked his brush right and left. "You see," she went on, "your sponsorship has had no very good results. He will not obey any more than you yourself." Her glance, turning towards Isaacs, did not reach him, and, in fact, she could not have seen anything beyond the side of his chair. Isaacs, on the contrary, seemed to be counting her eyelashes, and taking a mental photograph of her brows.
"Snap!" said he. The jackal instantly rose and trotted to him, fawning on his outstretched hand.
