phases. They knew, too, that a grieving dog is upheld by
none of the supports of Faith nor of Philosophy; and that he lacks the
wisdom which teaches the wondrous anaesthetic powers of Time. A
sorrowing dog sorrows without hope.

Nor did Lad's misery seem ridiculous to the Place's many kindly
neighbors; with whom the great dog was a favorite and who were
righteously indignant over the killing of Lady.

Then in a single minute came the cure.

On Labor Day afternoon, the finals in a local tennis tournament were to
be played at the mile distant country club. The Mistress and the Master
went across to the tournament; taking Lad along. Not that there could
be anything of the remotest interest to a dog in the sight of flanneled
young people swatting a ball back and forth. But Lad was a privileged
guest at all outdoor functions; and he enjoyed being with his two
deities.

Thus, when the two climbed the clubhouse veranda, Lad was at their
heels; pacing along in majestic unhappiness and not turning his
beautiful head in response to any of a dozen greetings flung at him.
The Mistress found a seat among a bevy of neighbors. Lad lay down,
decorously, at her feet; and refused to display the faintest interest
in anything that went on around him.

The playing had not yet begun. New arrivals were drifting up the steps
of the clubhouse. Car after car disgorged women in sport clothes and
men in knickerbockers or flannels. There was plenty of chatter and
bustle and motion. Lad paid no heed to any of it.

Then, up to the foot of the veranda steps jarred a flashy runabout;
driven by a flashier youth. At word from the policeman in charge he
parked his car at the rear of the clubhouse among fifty others, and
returned on foot to the steps.

"That's young Rhuburger," someone was confiding to the Mistress. "You
must have read about him. He was arrested as a Conscientious Objector,
during the war. Since then, his father has died, and left him all sorts
of money. And he is burning it; in double handfuls. No one seems to
know just how he got into the club, here. And no one seems to--"

The gossipy maundering broke off short; drowned in a wild beast growl.

Both the Mistress and her husband had been eyeing Rhuburger as he
ascended the veranda steps in all the glory of unbelievably exquisite
and gaudy raiment. There seemed to both of them something vaguely
familiar about the fellow; though neither could place him. But, to Lad,
there was no