r possessed a penny before in all its
life, and might never have another. He said that dog's penny seemed to
him to be a greater gift than the biggest cheque that the wealthiest
patron ever signed.

The other three were very eager now to get to work on the novel, but I
did not quite see the fairness of this. I had one or two dog stories of
my own.

I knew a black-and-tan terrier years ago. He lodged in the same house
with me. He did not belong to any one. He had discharged his owner (if,
indeed, he had ever permitted himself to possess one, which is doubtful,
having regard to his aggressively independent character), and was now
running himself entirely on his own account. He appropriated the front
hall for his sleeping-apartment, and took his meals with the other
lodgers--whenever they happened to be having meals.

At five o'clock he would take an early morning snack with young Hollis,
an engineer's pupil, who had to get up at half-past four and make his own
coffee, so as to be down at the works by six. At eight-thirty he would
breakfast in a more sensible fashion with Mr. Blair, on the first floor,
and on occasions would join Jack Gadbut, who was a late riser, in a
devilled kidney at eleven.

From then till about five, when I generally had a cup of tea and a chop,
he regularly disappeared. Where he went and what he did between those
hours nobody ever knew. Gadbut swore that twice he had met him coming
out of a stockbroker's office in Threadneedle Street, and, improbable
though the statement at first appeared, some colour of credibility began
to attach to it when we reflected upon the dog's inordinate passion for
acquiring and hoarding coppers.

This craving of his for wealth was really quite remarkable. He was an
elderly dog, with a great sense of his own dignity; yet, on the promise
of a penny, I have seen him run round after his own tail until he didn't
know one end of himself from the other.

He used to teach himself tricks, and go from room to room in the evening,
performing them, and when he had completed his programme he would sit up
and beg. All the fellows used to humour him. He must have made pounds
in the course of the year.

Once, just outside our door, I saw him standing in a crowd, watching a
performing poodle attached to a hurdy-gurdy. The poodle stood on his
head, and then, with his hind legs in the air, walked round on his front
paws. The people laughed very much, and, when afterwa