"So the next day, on entering the nursery, I found she had got some soap
and water in a basin, and beside her I saw the great kindly beast,
sitting up on her haunches, patiently waiting whilst her face was being
washed; but in spite of all the child's efforts the nose remained as
black as ever. My little girl's verdict, 'that mastiffs is the best
nursery dogs,' was for a long time a joke amongst our friends.
"For several years we took Rory up to London, but her stay there was
always rather a sad one, for when out walking the crossings in the
streets were a great source of terror to her. No maiden-aunt could have
been more timid. She would never go over by herself, but would either
bound forward violently or else hang back, and nearly pull over her
guide. She had also a spinsterly objection to hansoms, and never would
consent to be driven in one. On the other hand, she delighted in a drive
in a 'growler,' and, if the driver were cleaning out his carriage, would
often jump in and refuse to be taken out.
"When Rory followed us in London she had a foolish habit of wishing to
seem independent of all restraint, and of desiring to appear 'a
gentleman at large.'
"On one unfortunate occasion, whilst indulging in this propensity, she
was knocked over by a hansom--not badly hurt, but terribly overcome by a
sense of the wickedness of the world, where such things could be
possible.
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