Argument could never at any time
have had much effect upon her nature, and as she grew towards maturity
its power over her most markedly decreased. This fact was recognised
by everybody, last of all by Mrs. Merillia, who was at length fully
convinced of the existence of certain depths in her maid's peculiar
character by the following circumstance.
Mrs. Merillia had a bandy-legged dachshund called Beau, whose name was
for many years often affectionately, and quite correctly, pronounced
by Fancy Quinglet. One day, however, she chanced to see it written upon
paper--B.E.A.U.
"Whatever does that mean, ma'am?" she asked of Mrs. Merillia.
"Why, Beau, of course, Beau--the dog. What should it mean?"
"Bow?" cried Fancy. "Is he writ so?"
"Of course, silly girl. It is written Beau, and you can pronounce it as
you would pronounce a bow of ribbon."
Fancy said no more, though it was easy to see that she was much shaken
by this circumstance. But she could never afterwards be induced to utter
her favourite's name. She was physically unable to speak the word so
strangely, so almost impiously, spelt. This she declared with tears.
Persuasion and argument were unavailing.
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