DEATHS OF THE TWO DOGS 175 



branches, trembling and scintillating like fairy 

 pyrotechnics. 



31st. The long-dreaded tragedy has occurred. 

 Yesterday my two dear little dumb companions 

 were killed by a cobra. At about 12 o'clock I was 

 superintending the transplanting of some tall roots 

 of alocasia between the fish-tail palms brought 

 from the stables, when, some little distance off, 

 Nous began to bark ; his usual warning bark when 

 he has found something. Away went Klinker 

 from my side to join him, over in the fern corner. 

 I imagined it to be the monkey again, and glanced 

 up above me two or three times, expecting it to 

 come bounding along the top of the wall. I did 

 not want to be taken unawares, and perhaps 

 suddenly find it clawing at my face, being in my 

 secret heart in mortal terror of monkeys, since I 

 was jumped on as a little girl and fiercely bitten by 

 one. I saw nothing of it though, and continued 

 planting till the door-keeper came with a letter, 

 when he said : 



"The dogs have killed a snake." At once I 

 went to look. 



"Where?" I asked. 



