Now the dog had been ill-used by a girl, who was so naughty as to make
a sport of holding meat to his mouth and snatching it away again; which
made him take meat roughly, and always be surly to girls.
Soon after Miss stole to the dog, held out her hand as if she had meat
for him, and then snatched it away again. The creature resented this
treatment, and snapped at her fingers. When I met her crying, with her
hand wrapped in a napkin. “So,” said I, “you have been meddling with
the dog! Now you know _why_ I bade you let _Pompey_ alone.”
_Little Steady._ Did she not think you were unkind not to pity her? I
thought—do not be displeased, father—but I thought it was strange that
you did not comfort her.
_Mr. Steady._ You know that her hand was not very much hurt, and the
wound had been dressed when I met her.
_Little Steady._ Yes, father, but she was so sorry!
_Mr. Steady._ She was not so sorry for her fault, as for its
consequences.
_Little Steady._ What, father?
_Mr. Steady._ Her concern was for the pain which she felt in her
fingers; not for the fault which had occasioned it.
_Little Steady._ She was very naughty, I know; for she said that she
would get a pair of thick gloves, and _then_ she would tease _Pompey_.
_Mr. Steady._ Naughty girl! how ill-disposed! then my lecture was lost
upon her. I bade her while she felt the smart, resolve to profit by
_Pompey’s_ lesson; and learn to believe that her friends might have
good reasons for their orders; though they did not think it proper
always to acquaint her with them.
_Little Steady._ I once cut myself with a knife which I had not leave
to take; and when I see the scar, I always consider that I ought not to
have taken the knife.
_Mr. Steady._ That, I think, is the school-house; now go in, and be
good.