Mrs. Penwin gave one of her nervous little screams when she saw the dog.<br />&lsquo;Oh, Charlie!&rsquo; she cried. &lsquo;You surely haven&rsquo;t bought it!&rsquo; and her little brow, that she tried so fiercely to keep smooth, puckered into its customary little gathering of wrinkles.<br />The dog, taking an instant dislike to her, sank his head between his shoulders. He was an Alsatian.<br />&lsquo;Well . . .&rsquo; said Charlie, smiling nervously. He knew that his impulsiveness had led him once more astray. &lsquo;Only the other evening you were saying that you&rsquo;d like a dog.&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;Yes, but not an Alsatian! You know what Alsatians are. We read about them in the paper every day. They are simply not to be trusted. I&rsquo;m sure he looks as vicious as anything. And what about Mopsa?&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;Oh, Mopsa . . .&rsquo; Charlie hesitated. &lsquo;He&rsquo;ll be all right. You see, Sibyl, it was charity really. The Sillons are going to London as you know. They simply can&rsquo;t take him. It wouldn&rsquo;t be fair. They&rsquo;ve found it difficult enough in Edinburgh as it is.&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;I&rsquo;m sure they are simply getting rid of him because he&rsquo;s vicious.&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;No, Maude Sillon assured me. He&rsquo;s like a lamb&mdash;&mdash;&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;Oh, Maude! She&rsquo;d say anything!&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;You know that you&rsquo;ve been wanting a companion for Mopsa&mdash;&mdash;&rsquo;<br />&lsquo;A companion for Mopsa! That&rsquo;s good!&rsquo; Sibyl laughed her shrill little laugh that was always just out of tune.