ay "Let him off the chain," but the mater,
who was very particular, would never stand a dog muddying the verandahs
and digging holes for his bones in the flower-beds. He, Mr Peter, was
an only son, and she would do most things for him, but he was afraid
she would draw the line at that.

"Well, you might at least take him for walks," Rose pleaded. "Nobody
could object to that." "Yes, I might take him for walks," the young man
conceded thoughtfully. "Of course, I don't get home from business till
tea-time, and I have to leave directly after breakfast--"

"Our Pepper, when we go to town, takes us to the station and sees us
off; and you are not at business on Saturday afternoons." "I usually
play tennis or something on Saturday afternoons--"

"Well, take him and let him see you play tennis. He'd love it."

"I question whether my club would. But see here, Miss Pennycuick, I WAS
going to meet some lady friends this afternoon, but now I won't; I will
take him for a walk instead. And I'll get up in the mornings, and give
him a run before breakfast. There!"

"Oh, how kind, how good you are!" she exclaimed delightedly.

"Not at all," he returned, glowing. "It is you who are good, taking all
this trouble about us. I am only ashamed that you should have had to do
it, and that you should have caught me in this state"--another blushing
reference to his distressing toilet.

"Never mind your state," she consoled him sweetly, rising from her
chair. "I like you better in this state than I do when you are smart. I
thought you were too smart to--to condescend to trouble yourself about
a poor dog."

"I am sorry you had such a bad opinion of me. It was simply--the thing
didn't occur to me until you mentioned it."

"I know. But it is all right now. Well, I must go. You will never get
your gun cleaned at this rate."

"Bother the gun! This is better than--I mean--won't you take a glass of
wine?"

She declined emphatically and with haste, and hurried into the hall. He
opened the front door for her, and they stood together for a moment on
the dustless door-mat, mathematically laid upon verandah boards as
white as new-peeled almonds.

"What a lovely garden!" remarked Rose, as she stepped down to it. Those
were her words, but what she really said in her mind was: "Who would
think he was a draper?"

Francie was aroused from her Sunday afternoon snooze on the
drawing-room sofa.

"What IS the matter with that dog?" she complained pet