sy pegging it out he wandered up and drank the whitening out of
the marker. It is practically the only disappointment he has ever had.
He looked at us, and you could see that his opinion of us had gone down.
'What did you _put_ it there for, if you didn't mean me to drink it?' he
said reproachfully. Then he turned and walked slowly and thoughtfully
back to his kennel. He never came out till next morning."

"Really?" said my man. "Well, I shall have to think about it. I'll let
you know."

Of course, I knew what he meant.

With a third dog-lover to whom I spoke the negotiations came to grief,
not apparently because of any fault of Chum's, but because, if you will
believe it, of my shortcomings. At least I can suppose nothing else. For
this man had been enthusiastic about him. He had revelled in the tale of
Chum's wickedness; he had adored him for being so conceited. He had
practically said that he would take him.

"Do," I begged. "I'm sure he'd be happy with you. You see, he's not
everybody's dog; I mean, I don't want any odd man whom I don't know to
take him. It must be a friend of mine, so that I shall often be able to
see Chum afterwards."

"So that--what?" he asked anxiously.

"So that I shall often be able to see Chum afterwards. Week-ends, you
know, and so on. I couldn't bear to lose the silly old ass altogether."

He looked thoughtful; and, when I went on to speak about Chum's fondness
for chickens, and his other lovable ways, he changed the subject
altogether. He wrote afterwards that he was sorry he couldn't manage
with a third dog. And I like to think he was not afraid of Chum--but
only of me.

But I have found the right man at last. A day will come soon when I
shall take Chum from his present home to his new one. That will be a
great day for him. I can see him in the train, wiping his boots
effusively on every new passenger, wriggling under the seat and out
again from sheer joy of life; I can see him in the taxi, taking his one
brief impression of a world that means nothing to him; I can see him in
another train, joyous, eager, putting his paws on my collar from time to
time and saying excitedly, "_What_ a day this is!" And if he survives
the journey; if I can keep him on the way from all the delightful deaths
he longs to try; if I can get him safely to his new house, then I can
see him----

Well, I wonder. What will they do to him? When I see him again, will he
be a sober little dog, answering to hi