rfered in a purchase. Justice compelled Stepfather Time to
recall that the subject of Willy's protests on that occasion had
subsequently turned out to be far less antique than the worm holes in
the woodwork (artificially blown in with powder) would have led the
unsuspecting to suppose. But about the present legacy there could be no
such question. It was genuine. It was old. It was valuable. It possessed
a seraphic note pitched true to the long-desired chord.

Extracting a ten-dollar note from his wallet, Stepfather Time waved it
beneath the landlord's wrinkled and covetous nose. The landlord
capitulated. Willy Woolly, sniffing at the clock with fur abristle,
lifted up his voice and wailed. Perhaps his delicate nose had already
detected the faint, unhallowed odor of the chemicals within. He
stubbornly refused to ride back in the cart with the new acquisition,
and was accused of being sulky and childish.

* * * * *

The relic of the late unlamented Lukisch was temporarily installed in a
high chair before the open window giving on the areaway of Number 37.
There it briefly beamed upon the busy life of Our Square with its bland
and hypocritical face, and there, thrice and no more, it sounded the
passing of the hours with its sweet and false voice, biding the stroke
of nine. Meantime Willy Woolly settled down to keep watch on it and
could not be moved from that duty. Every time it struck the half he
growled. At the hour he barked and raged. When Stepfather Time sought to
draw him away to dinner he committed the unpardonable sin of dog-dom, he
snarled at his master. Turning this strange manifestation over in his
troubled mind, the collector decided that Willy Woolly must be ill, and
therefore that evening went to seek the Little Red Doctor and
his wisdom.

Together they came across the park space opposite the House of Silvery
Voices in time to witness the final scene.

The new clock struck the half after eight as they reached the turn in
the path. A long, quavering howl, mingled of rage and desperation,
answered in Willy Woolly's voice.

"You hear?" said Stepfather Time anxiously to the Little Red Doctor.
"The dog is not himself."

They saw him rear up against the clock case. He seemed to be trying to
tear it open with his teeth.

"Willy!" cried his master in a tone such as, I suppose, the well-loved
companion had not heard twice before in his life. "Down, Willy!"

The dog drooped bac