said Gudrun, ‘and see if we can get his Looliness, shall we?’

‘Darling!’ cried Winifred, rushing to the dog, that sat with contemplative sadness on the hearth, and kissing its bulging brow. ‘Darling one, will you be drawn? Shall its mummy draw its portrait?’ Then she chuckled gleefully, and turning to Gudrun, said: ‘Oh let’s!’

They proceeded to get pencils and paper, and were ready.

‘Beautifullest,’ cried Winifred, hugging the dog, ‘sit still while its mummy draws its beautiful portrait.’ The dog looked up at her with grievous resignation in its large, prominent eyes. She kissed it fervently, and said: ‘I wonder what mine will be like. It’s sure to be awful.’