Doggie, attired in a green
shot-silk dressing-gown, entered his own particular room and sat down to
think. In its way it was a very beautiful room--high, spacious,
well-proportioned, facing southeast. The wall-paper, which Doggie had
designed himself, was ivory white, with trimmings of peacock blue.
[v]Vellum-bound books filled the cases; delicate water-colors adorned
the walls. On his writing-table lay an ivory set: inkstand, pen-tray,
blotter, and calendar. Bits of old embroidery, harmonizing with the
peacock shades, were spread here and there. A spinet inlaid with ivory
formed the center for the arrangement of other musical instruments--a
viol, mandolins, and flutes. One tall, closed cabinet was devoted to
Doggie's collection of wall-papers. Another held a collection of little
dogs in china and porcelain--thousands of them; he got them from dealers
from all over the world.

An unwonted frown creased Doggie's brow, for several problems disturbed
him. The morning sun disclosed, beyond doubt, discolorations, stains,
and streaks on the wall-paper. It would have to be renewed.

Then, his thoughts ran on to his cousin, Oliver Manningtree, who had
just returned from the South Sea. It was Oliver, the strong and
masculine, who had given him the name of Doggie years before, to his
infinite disgust. And now every one in Durdlebury seemed to have gone
crazy over the fellow. Doggie's uncle and aunt had hung on his lips
while Oliver had boasted unblushingly of his adventures. Even the fair
cousin Peggy, with whom Doggie was mildly in love, had listened
open-eyed and open-mouthed to Oliver's tales of shipwreck in distant
seas.

Doggie had reached this point in his reflections when, to his horror,
he heard a familiar voice outside the door.

"All right," it said. "Don't worry, Peddle. I'll show myself in."

The door burst open, and Oliver, pipe in mouth and hat on one side, came
into the room.

"Hello, Doggie!" he cried boisterously. "Thought I'd look you up. Hope
I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all," said Doggie. "Do sit down."

But Oliver walked about and looked at things.

"I like your water colors," he said. "Did you collect them yourself!"

"Yes."

"I congratulate you on your taste. This is a beauty."

The appreciation brought Doggie at once to his side. He took Oliver
delightedly around the pictures, expounding their merits and their
little histories. Doggie was just beginning to like the big fellow,
when, s