All over the East, during these last days before the Show, hundreds of high-bred dogs were undergoing preparation for an exhibition which to the beholder is a delight--and which to many of the canine exhibits is a form of unremitting torture. To do justice to the Master and the Mistress, they had no idea--then--of this torture. Otherwise all the blue ribbons ever woven would not have tempted them to subject their beloved chum to it. In some kennels Airedales were "plucked," by hand, to rid them of the last vestige of the soft gray outer coat which is an Airedale's chief natural beauty--and no hair of which must be seen in a show. "Plucking" a dog is like pulling live hairs from a human head, so far as the sensation goes. But show-traditions demand the anguish. In other kennels, bull-terriers' white coats were still further whitened by the harsh rubbing of pipeclay into the tender skin. Sensitive tails and still more sensitive ears were sandpapered, for the victims' greater beauty--and agony. Ear-interiors, also, were shaved close with safety-razors. Murderous little "knife-combs" were tearing blithely away at collies' ear-interiors and heads, to "barber" natural furriness into painful and unnatural trimness. Ears were "scrunched" until their wearers quivered with stark anguish--to impart the perfect tulip-shape; ordained by fashion for collies. And so on, through every breed to be exhibited--each to its own form of torment; torments compared to which Lad's gentle if bothersome brushing and bathing were a pure delight! Few of these ruthlessly "prepared" dogs were personal pets. The bulk of them were "kennel dogs"--dogs bred and raised after the formula for raising and breeding prize hogs or chickens, and with little more of the individual element in it. The dogs were bred in a way to bring out certain arbitrary "points" which count in show-judging, and which change from year to year. Brain, fidelity, devotion, the _human_ side of a dog--these were totally ignored in the effort to breed the perfect physical animal. The dogs were kept in kennel-buildings and in wire "runs" like so many pedigreed cattle--looked after by paid attendants, and trained to do nothing but to be the best-looking of their kind, and to win ribbons. Some of them did not know their owners by sight--having been reared wholly by hirelings. The body was everything; the heart, the mind, the namelessly delightful quality of the master-raised dog--these were nothing. Such traits do not win prizes at a bench-show. Therefore fanciers, whose sole aim is to win ribbons and cups, do not bother to cultivate them. (All of this is extraneous; but may be worth your remembering, next time you go to a dog-show.) Early on the morning of the Show's first day, the Mistress and the Master set forth for town with Lad. They went in their little car, that the dog might not risk the dirt and cinders of a train.