a dirty, starving, shivering whelp, into an extremely handsome dog, with a fine gloss on his coat. Did he ever remember his own evil days, as he lounged of an afternoon sunning himself at the gate of Rookwood, and passed in scornful review, curs less happy and of low degree? Are dogs snobs? Whether snob or not, Ben was brave, he lowered his tail to none, and when the big wild cat that created such havoc among the poultry, went to ground under the messhouse, “Ben Brande,” as he was called, was the only one of the assembled mob of terriers, who, as a looker on expressed it, “was man enough to follow him, kill him, and drag him out.” Ben Brande lost an eye thereby, but gained a magnificent reputation. Of course Ben was spoiled. His mistress talked to him incessantly; he had his own little charpoy in her room, his morning tea in her company, and now and then he was permitted to invite his pal “Jacko,” a red terrier, to dine and spend the day! (Once they had elected to spend it quietly in Mr. Brande’s dressing-room, where they devoured several pairs of boots, a sponge-bag, and the back of “Nancy.”) Ben escorted his mistress in her walks and drives. Many a time she went out solely on his account, and it was an indisputable fact that he had favourite roads, and his “grandmamma”--as the infatuated lady called herself--always studied his wishes. On those occasions when “his grandpapa and grandmamma” were dining abroad, he never went to bed, but established himself at the entrance until their return (however late), and passers-by could always tell that the Brandes were at a “burra khana” when they saw an upright little white figure sitting by the gatepost. Indeed it was whispered, that the reason Mrs. Brande was always so early to depart, was simply that she did not like to keep Ben waiting up! She never said so, but every one knew that Ben was the real motive for her premature departure. And this was the animal who now accompanied Honor, and who had accorded her his patronage and friendship. One morning, as they were strolling homewards, he with a large stone in his mouth, and she carrying an armful of ferns, they nearly came into collision with another couple--the angles were abrupt--walking noiselessly on pine needles. They proved to be Toby Joy, who was also attended by a dog, and sauntering along hand-in-hand with a young lady, a dainty, white-skinned little person, with fluffy light hair, small keen eyes, admirably arched brows and a tip-tilted nose. Honor was by far the most embarrassed of the trio, and blushed a good healthy blush--of which she was heartily ashamed. Why should not other people enjoy the delicious morning air? As to walking hand-in-hand, _she_ ought to be the last person to object; had she not walked hand-in-hand herself with an absolute stranger?