At Baker Street he woke up and grinned cheerily. "It's all right," he said, "I was trying to remember what happened to me this morning--something rather miserable, I thought, but I can't get hold of it. However, it's all right now. How are _you_?" And he went mad again. At Paddington I bought a label at the bookstall and wrote it for him. He went round and round my leg looking for me. "Funny thing," he said as he began to unwind, "he was here a moment ago. I'll just go round once more. I rather think ... _Ow!_ Oh, there you are!" I stepped off him, unravelled the lead and dragged him to the Parcels Office. "I want to send this by the two o'clock train," I said to the man the other side of the counter. "Send what?" he said. I looked down. Chum was making himself very small and black in the shadow of the counter. He was completely hidden from the sight of anybody the other side of it. "Come out," I said, "and show yourself." "Not much," he said. "A parcel! I'm not going to be a jolly old parcel for anybody." "It's only a way of speaking," I pleaded. "Actually you are travelling as a small black gentleman. You will go with the guard--a delightful man." Chum came out reluctantly. The clerk leant over the counter and managed to see him. "According to our regulations," he said, and I always dislike people who begin like that, "he has to be on a chain. A leather lead won't do." Chum smiled all over himself. I don't know which pleased him more--the suggestion that he was a very large and fierce dog, or the impossibility now of his travelling with the guard, delightful man though he might be. He gave himself a shake and started for the door. "Tut, tut, it's a great disappointment to me," he said, trying to look disappointed, but his back _would_ wriggle. "This chain business--silly of us not to have known--well, well, we shall be wiser another time. Now let's go home." Poor old Chum; I _had_ known. From a large coat pocket I produced a chain. "_Dash_ it," said Chum, looking up at me pathetically, "you might almost _want_ to get rid of me." He was chained, and the label tied on to him. Forgive me that label, Chum; I think that was the worst offence of all. And why should I label one who was speaking so eloquently for himself; who said from the tip of his little black nose to the end of his stumpy black tail, "I'm a silly old ass, but there's nothing wrong in me, and they're sending me away!" But according to the regulations--one must obey the regulations, Chum. I gave him to the guard--a delightful man. The guard and I chained him to a brake or something. Then the guard went away, and Chum and I had a little talk.... After that the train went off. Good-bye, little dog. THE TRUTH ABOUT HOME RAILS