"What! Tartar, Tartar!" said a cheery, rather boyish voice, "don't you know us? Good-morning, old boy!"
And little Mr. Sweeting, whose conscious good nature made him comparatively fearless of man, woman, child, or brute, came through the gate, caressing the guardian. His vicar, Mr. Hall, followed. He had no fear of Tartar either, and Tartar had no ill-will to him. He snuffed both the gentlemen round, and then, as if concluding that they were harmless, and might be allowed to pass, he withdrew to the sunny front of the hall, leaving the archway free. Mr. Sweeting followed, and would have played with him; but Tartar took no notice of his caresses. It was only his mistress's hand whose touch gave him pleasure; to all others he showed himself obstinately insensible.

"What! Tartar!" said a cheery, rather boyish voice, "Good-morning, old boy!"
And little Mr. Sweeting, who was fearless of man, woman or brute, came through the gate, caressing the dog. His vicar, Mr. Hall, followed. He had no fear of Tartar either. Tartar snuffed both the gentlemen, and then, as if concluding that they were harmless, he withdrew to the sunny front of the hall.
