Babette had long been fast asleep, and was with difficulty roused up and
directed to beat the cur away. She attempted to perform the duty, arming
herself with the broom; but the moment she opened the door Snarleyyow
dashed in between her legs, upsetting her on the brick pavement. Babette
screamed, and her mistress came out in the passage to ascertain the
cause; the dog not being able to run into the parlour, bolted up the
stairs, and snapping at the widow as he passed, secured a berth
underneath her bed.

"Oh, mein Gott! it is the dog of the lieutenant," exclaimed Babette,
coming up the stairs in greater dishabille than her mistress, and with
the broom in her hand. "What shall we do--how shall we get rid of him?"

"A thousand devils may take the lieutenant, and his nasty dog, too,"
exclaimed the widow, in great wrath; "this is the last time that either
of them enter my house; try, Babette, with your broom--shove at
him hard."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Babette, pushing with all her strength at the dog
beneath the bed, who seized the broom with his teeth, and pulled it away
from Babette. It was a struggle of strength between the girl and
Snarleyyow--pull, Babette--pull, dog--one moment the broom, with
two-thirds of the handle, disappeared under the bed, the next the maid
recovered her lost ground. Snarleyyow was first tired of this
contention, and to prove that he had no thoughts of abandoning his
position, he let go the broom, flew at Babette's naked legs, and having
inserted his teeth half through her ankle, he returned growling to his
former retreat. "O dear, mein Gott!" exclaimed Babette, dropping her
broom, and holding her ankle with both hands.