ver two feet tall, at the
shoulder, even now--much bigger than most full-grown collies. Champion
Howgill Rival is spoken of as a 'big' dog; yet he is only twenty-four
inches at the shoulder, Mr. Leighton says. Surely it's something to own
a dog that is so big."

"It IS 'something,'" gloomily conceded the Master. "In our case it is a
catastrophe. I don't set up to be an expert judge of collies, so maybe
I am all wrong about him. I'm going to get professional opinion,
though. Next week they are going to have the spring dogshow at Hampton.
It's a little hole-in-a-corner show, of course. But Symonds is to be
the all-around judge, except for the toy breeds. And Symonds knows
collies, from the ground up. I am going to take Bruce over there and
enter him for the puppy class. If he is any good, Symonds will know it.
If the dog is as worthless as I think he is, I'll get rid of him. If
Symonds gives any hope for him, I'll keep him on a while longer."

"But," ventured the Mistress, "if Symonds says 'Thumbs down,' then--"

"Then I'll buy a pet armadillo or an ornithorhynchus instead,"
threatened the Master. "Either of them will look more like a collie
than Bruce does."

"I--I wonder if Mr. Symonds smokes," mused the Mistress under her
breath.

"Smokes?" echoed the Master. "What's that got to do with it?"

"I was only wondering," she made hesitant answer, "if a box of very
wonderful cigars, sent to him with our cards, mightn't perhaps--"

"It's a fine sportsmanly proposition!" laughed the Master. "When women
get to ruling the world of sport, there'll be no need of comic
cartoons. Genuine photographs will do as well. If it's just the same to
you, dear girl, we'll let Symonds buy his own cigars, for the present.
The dog-show game is almost the only one I know of where a judge is
practically always on the square. People doubt his judgment, sometimes,
but there is practically never any doubt of his honesty. Besides, we
want to get the exact dope on Bruce. (Not that I haven't got it,
already!) If Symonds 'gates' him, I'm going to offer him for sale at
the show. If nobody buys him there, I'm going--"

"He hasn't been 'gated' yet," answered the Mistress in calm confidence.

At the little spring show, at Hampton, a meager eighty dogs were
exhibited, of which only nine were collies. This collie division
contained no specimens to startle the dog-world. Most of the exhibits
were pets. And like nearly all pets, they were "seconds"--in