ourse.

***

"The Shepherdess without a Heart" continues to make good progress, and
the medical profession is much interested.

* * * * *

A FAREWELL TOUR.

This is positively Chum's last appearance in print--for his own sake
no less than for yours. He is conceited enough as it is, but if once
he got to know that people are always writing about him in the papers
his swagger would be unbearable. However, I have said good-bye to
him now; I have no longer any rights in him. Yesterday I saw him off
to his new home, and when we meet again it will be on a different
footing. "Is that your dog?" I shall say to his master. "What is he? A
Cocker? Jolly little fellows, aren't they? I had one myself once."

As Chum refused to do the journey across London by himself, I met him
at Liverpool Street. He came up in a crate; the world must have seemed
very small to him on the way. "Hallo, old ass," I said to him through
the bars, and in the little space they gave him he wriggled his body
with delight. "Thank Heaven there's _one_ of 'em alive," he said.

"I think this is my dog," I said to the guard, and I told him my name.

He asked for my card.

"I'm afraid I haven't one with me," I explained. When policemen touch
me on the shoulder and ask me to go quietly; when I drag old gentlemen
from underneath motor-'buses, and they decide to adopt me on the spot;
on all the important occasions when one really wants a card, I never
have one with me.

"Can't give him up without proof of identity," said the guard, and
Chum grinned at the idea of being thought so valuable.

I felt in my pockets for letters. There was only one, but it offered
to lend me L10,000 on my note of hand alone. It was addressed to "Dear
Sir," and though I pointed out to the guard that I was the "Sir," he
still kept tight hold of Chum. Strange that one man should be prepared
to trust me with L10,000, and another should be so chary of confiding
to me a small black spaniel.

"Tell the gentleman who I am," I said imploringly through the bars.
"Show him you know me."

"He's _really_ all right," said Chum, looking at the guard with his
great honest brown eyes. "He's been with us for years."

And then I had an inspiration. I turned down the inside pocket of my
coat; and there, stitched into it, was the label of my tailor's with
my name written on it. I had often wondered why tailors did this;
obviously they know how stupid guar