elt apologetic. Then, losing his head
completely under the cold glance his hostess turned on him, he added,
"Go ye into the highways and hedges and compel them to come in."

Mrs. Jowett took a bit of toast and broke it nervously. She was never
quite at ease in Mrs. Duff-Whalley's company. Incapable of an unkind
thought or a bitter word, so refined as to be almost inaudible, she felt
jarred and bumped in her mind after a talk with that lady, even as her
body would have felt after bathing in a rough sea among rocks. Realising
that the conversation had taken an unfortunate turn, she tried to divert
it into more pleasing channels.

Turning to Mr. Jackson, she said: "Such a sad thing happened to-day. Our
dear old dog, Rover, had to be put away. He was sixteen, very deaf and
rather cross, and the Vet. said it wasn't _kind_ to keep him; and of
course after that we felt there was nothing to be said. The Vet. said he
would come this morning at ten o'clock, and it quite spoilt my
breakfast, for dear Rover sat beside me and begged, and I felt like an
executioner; and then he went out for a walk by himself--a thing he
hadn't done since he had become frail--and when the Vet. came there was
no Rover."

"Dear, dear!" said Mr. Jackson, helping himself to an entree.

"The really dreadful thing about it," continued Mrs. Jowett, refusing
the entree, "was that Johnston--the gardener, you know--had dug the
grave where I had chosen he should lie, dear Rover, and--you have heard
the expression, Mr. Jackson--a yawning grave? Well, the grave _yawned_.
It was too heartrending. I simply went to my room and cried, and Tim
went in one direction and Johnston in another, and the maids looked too,
and they found the dear doggie, and the Vet.--a most obliging man called
Davidson--came back ... and dear Rover is _at rest_."

Mrs. Jowett looked sadly round and found that the whole table had been
listening to the recital.

Few people have not loved a dog and known the small tragedy of parting
with it when its all too short day was over, and even the "lamentable
comedy" of Mrs. Jowett's telling of the tale made no one smile.

Muriel leant forward, genuinely distressed. "I'm so frightfully sorry,
Mrs. Jowett; you'll miss dear old Rover dreadfully."

"It's a beastly business putting away a dog," said Lewis Elliot. "I
always wish they had the same lease of life as we have. 'Threescore and
ten years do sum up' ... and it's none too long for such faithf