GOOD old Laddie!"

As the Mistress and the Master were closing the house for the night, a
car came down the drive. Out of it stepped their friend of many years,
Maclay, the local Justice of the Peace.

"Hello, Mac!" hailed the Master. "Here to take us all to jail for
assault-and-battery; or just to serve a 'dangerous dog' notice on us?"

He spoke lightly; but he was troubled. Today's escapade might well lead
the village law to take some cognizance of Lad's ferocious deed.

"No," laughed Maclay. "Neither of those things. I'm here,
unprofessionally. I thought you people might like to know a few things,
before you go to bed. In the first place, the doctor patched up
Rhuburger's bites and took him home. He couldn't take him home in
Rhuburger's own car. For some of the tennis crowd had gotten at that.
What they did to that $6,000 runabout was a crime! They stripped it of
everything. They threw the carburetor and the wheels and the steering
gear and a lot of other parts into the lake."

"WHAT?"

"Then they left their cards pinned to the dismantled machine's
cushions;--in case Rhuburger cares to go further into the matter. While
they were doing all that, the club's Governors had a hurry-call
meeting. And for once the Board was unanimous about something. It was
unanimous--in expelling Rhuburger from the club. Then we--By the way,
where's Laddie? Curled up by Lady's grave, as usual, I suppose? Poor
old dog!"

"No," denied the Mistress. "He's asleep in his 'cave' under the piano.
He went there, of his own accord. And he ate a perfectly tremendous
supper, tonight. He's--he's CURED!"

CHAPTER VIII. In Strange Company

Lad was getting along in years.

Not yet had age begun to claw at him; blearing the wondrous deep-set
dark eyes and silvering the classic muzzle and broadening the shapely
skull and stiffening the sweepingly free gait; dulling the sharp ears
or doing any of the other pitiably tragic things that nature does to
the dog who is progressing in his teens. Those, humiliations were still
waiting for Lad, one by one; beyond the next Turn of the Road.

Yet the romp and the spirit of bubbling fun and the lavishly needless
exercise--these were merging into sobriety. True, at rare times, with
the Mistress or the Master--especially with the Mistress, Lad would
forget he was middle-aged and dignified; and would play like a crazy
puppy. But, for the most part he had begun to carry his years a trifle
seriously.

He