of
his generation. Groomed for a show, he made most other dogs look
plebeian and shabby. That day, one may say in passing, he was destined
to go through the collie classes, to Winners, with a rush; and then to
win the award and cup for "Best Dog Of Any Breed In The Show."

Bruce's son and daughter--Bobby and Jean were to win in their
respective collie classes as Best Puppy and Best Novice. It was to be a
day of triumph for the Sunnybank Kennels. Yet, somehow, it was to be a
day to which the Mistress and the Master never enjoyed looking back.

Into the car the three dogs were put. The Mistress and the Master and
the Place's superintended got aboard, and the trip to Hawthorne began.

Laddie had come out from his cave to see the show-goers off. The
Mistress, looking back, had a last glimpse of him, standing in the
front doorway; staring wistfully after the car. She waved her hand to
him in farewell. Lad wagged his plumed tail, once, in reply, to the
salute. Then, heavily, he turned back again into the house.

"Dear old Laddie!" sighed the Mistress. "He used to hate to go to
shows. And now he hates being left behind. It seems so cruel to leave
him. And yet--"

"Oh the maids will take good care of him!" consoled the Master. "They
spoil him, whenever they get a chance. And we'll be back before five
o'clock. We can't be forever looking out for his crotchety feelings."

"We won't be 'forever' doing that," prophesied the Mistress, unhappily.

Left alone the old dog paced slowly back to his cave. The day was hot.
His massive coat was a burden. Life was growing more of a problem than
of old it had been. Also, from time to time, lately, his heart did
queer things that annoyed Lad. At some sudden motion or undue exertion
it had a new way of throbbing and of hammering against his ribs so
violently as to make him pant.

Lad did not understand this. And, as with most things he did not
understand, it vexed him. This morning, for example,--the heat of the
day and the fatigue of his ramble down through the rose garden to the
lake and back, had set it to thumping painfully. He was glad to lie at
peace in his beloved cave, in the cool music-room; and sleep away the
hours until his deities should return from that miserable dog-show. He
slept.

And so an hour wore on; and then another and another.

At the show, the Mistress developed one of her sick headaches. She said
nothing of it. But the Master saw the black shadows grow, unde