'Well, what is the matter?' said Elizabeth.
'Oh! my poor dear little doggie!' cried Harriet.
'Is it Fido?' said Elizabeth; 'then, Harriet, there is no fear of
your eating him in a sausage; you may be at rest on that score.'
'But can it really be Fido?' said Katherine, pressing forwards.
'Do you wish to see?' said Rupert, 'for if so, I advise you to make
haste, the island is sinking fast.'
'I am splashed all over, so I do not care. Can I have one more
look?' said Harriet, in a melancholy voice.
Rupert handed her back to the island, where she took her last
farewell of poor Fido, all his long hair drenched with water, and the
very same blue ribbon which she had herself tied round his neck the
day before, floating, a funeral banner, on the surface of the stream.
She contemplated him until her weight and Rupert's had sunk the
island so much, that it was fast becoming a lake, while Elizabeth
whispered to Anne to propose presenting her with a forget-me-not, on
Fido's part.
'I hope,' said Rupert, as they proceeded with their walk, 'that you
are fully sensible of poor Fido's generous self-sacrifice; he
immolated himself to remove, by the manner of his death, any
suspicions of Winifred's having the Fidophobia.
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