lays before the altar of Sloth."

"All dogs are greedy," said Jill. "It's natural. And you'd be tired, if
you ran about like him."

"He's useful and ornamental and diverting," said I. "I don't know what
more you want."

"Useful?" said Berry, with a yawn. "Useful? Oh, you mean scavenging? But
then you discourage him so. Remember that rotten fish in Brook Street
the other day? Well, he was making a nice clean job of that, he was,
when you stopped him."

"That was a work of supererogation. I maintain, however, that nobody can
justly describe Nobby as a useless dog. For instance----"

The sudden opening of the door at once interrupted and upheld my
contention.

Into the room bustled the Sealyham, the personification of importance,
with tail up, eyes sparkling, and gripped in his large mouth the letters
which had just been delivered by the last post.

As the outburst of feminine approval subsided--

"Out of his own mouth," said I, "you stand confuted."

Either of gallantry or because her welcome was the more compelling, the
terrier made straight for my sister and pleasedly delivered his burden
into her hands. Of the three letters she selected two and then, making
much of the dog, returned a foolscap envelope to his jaws and instructed
him to bear it to Berry. Nobby received it greedily, but it was only
when he had simultaneously spun into the air, growled and, placing an
emphatic paw upon the projecting end, torn the letter half-way asunder,
that it became evident that he was regarding her return of the missive
as a _douceur_ or reward of his diligence.

With a cry my brother-in-law sprang to enlighten him; but Nobby, hailing
his action as the first move in a game of great promise, darted out of
his reach, tore round the room at express speed, and streaked into the
hall.

By dint of an immediate rush to the library door, we were just in time
to see Berry slip on the parquet and, falling heavily, miss the terrier
by what was a matter of inches, and by the time we had helped one
another upstairs, the medley of worrying and imprecations which emanated
from Daphne's bedroom made it clear that the quarry had gone to ground.

As we drew breath in the doorway--

"Get him from the other side!" yelled Berry, who was lying flat on his
face, with one arm under the bed. "Quick! It may be unsporting, but I
don't care. A-a-ah!" His voice rose to a menacing roar, as the rending
of paper became distinctly audible. "Stop it,