uctor, whose innate cockney bonhomie his high official
position had failed to eradicate, presented himself before us and
collected our fares.

"What part of Bettersea did you require, sir?" he asked of me.

I coughed and answered evasively:--

"Oh, about the middle."

"We haven't been there before," added my wife, quite gratuitously.

The conductor smiled indulgently and punched our tickets.

"I'll tell you when to get down," he said, and left us.

For some months we had been considering the question of buying a dog,
and a good deal of our spare time--or perhaps I should say of my spare
time, for a woman's time is naturally all her own--had been pleasantly
occupied in discussing the matter. Having at length committed ourselves
to the purchase of the animal, we proceeded to consider such details as
breed, sex, and age.

My wife vacillated between a bloodhound, because bloodhounds are so
aristocratic in appearance, and a Pekinese, because they are _dernier
cri_. We like to be _dernier cri_ even in Much Moreham. Her younger
sister, Eileen, who spends a good deal of time with us, having no
parents of her own, suggested an Old English sheep dog, explaining that
it would be company for my wife when I was away from home. I coldly
recommended a mastiff.

Our son John, aged three, on being consulted, expressed a preference for
twelve tigers in a box, and was not again invited to participate in the
debate.

Finally we decided on an Aberdeen terrier, of an age and sex to be
settled by circumstances, and I was instructed to communicate with a
gentleman in the North who advertised in our morning paper that Aberdeen
terriers were his specialty. In due course we received a reply. The
advertiser recommended two animals--namely, Celtic Chief, aged four
months, and Scotia's Pride, aged one year. Pedigrees were inclosed, each
about as complicated as the family tree of the House of Hapsburg; and
the favor of an early reply was requested, as both dogs were being hotly
bid for by an anonymous client in Constantinople.

The price of Celtic Chief was twenty guineas; that of Scotia's Pride,
for reasons heavily underlined in the pedigree, was twenty-seven. The
advertiser, who resided in Aberdeen, added that these prices did not
cover cost of carriage. We decided not to stand in the way of the
gentleman in Constantinople, and having sent back the pedigrees by
return of post, resumed the debate.

Finally Stella, my wife, said:--