Margaret and Sholto were becoming fast friends. Part of Margaret's day included a little play with Sholto as he returned from his morning's walk; besides the care of the children during the servants' dinner. They were such good friends that Sholto would oftentimes escape from his nanny to go find 'Auntie' Margaret.
Late one night, Margaret had fallen into a fitful sleep. She was dreaming about pouring tea for her father and Mr. Thornton, the two people she thought about most these days, when she was awakened by a whimpering child and a light tap on her door.
'My darling Sholto!' Margaret exclaimed, 'What is the matter?'
'Auntie Margaret! A b-b-big b-b-bulldog was chasing me!' the toddler stammered.
Margaret picked up the boy and settled him on her lap. She knew she should not have read him Aesop's Fable of 'The Dog, the Cock, and the Fox' for a bedtime story. Edith will be so angry. At least Sholto did not wake his mother or even his nanny, it seems, and Margaret will be the only one to pay the price for her folly.
'Oh Sholto you are just fine. There are no bulldogs here on Harley Street.' Margaret soothed.
A smile of realization crossed the boy's face. On his walks with his Auntie Margaret he had met all of the dogs on the street. 'Yes! Oh auntie you are right!' he exclaimed.
Sholto was feeling much better now. Margaret grabbed Bessy's cup and offered him a drink of water. The toddler gulped it down and allowed his aunt to lead him back to the nursery. She tucked him into his bed and placed a kiss on his forehead.
When Margaret returned to her room she saw Bessy's cup there on her bedside table. She smiled as she remembered Nicholas' vivid description of Mr. Thornton as a bulldog.
'Did yo' ever see a bulldog? Set a bulldog on hind legs, and dress him up in coat and breeches, and yo'n just getten John Thornton… let John Thornton get hold on a notion, and he'll stick to it like a bulldog; yo' might pull him away wi' a pitch-fork ere he'd leave go… Thornton's as dour as a door-nail; an obstinate chap, every inch on him,-th' oud bulldog!'
Margaret drifted off to sleep dreaming of a bulldog standing on his hind legs wearing a coat and breeches guarding her, snarling and baring his teeth at anyone who tried to come near her.