Kit shook his head hard. “Couldn’t possibly to-day,” he said. “I had it in my head that to-day was Wednesday, and I told Antony Paul I’d go with him to see a dog he’s dickering for. He asked me yesterday. It won’t matter; I’ll be in long before dinner.” “Can’t you call Antony Paul and defer the dog’s inspection?” Miss Carrington admitted Kit’s authority on dogs, for which he had a reputation. “Antony’s got an option only till this afternoon. Another man’s waiting to gobble the pup if Tony drops him. Oh, come, now, aunt, it isn’t necessary for me to go to the station; you’re Helen’s hostess, and for that matter, I’d back Noble against the world as a chaperon or guardian.” Kit grinned, cheerful over this small victory. “I suppose you do not need to be told that one doesn’t meet a guest either as her guardian or chaperon. Courtesy is valuable, Kit! And a warm welcome is pleasant to us all. But since you’ve promised young Paul it cannot be helped; I’ll meet Helen. Try to be at home early, please.” Miss Carrington went away to order the jasmine, and Kit departed to join Antony Paul at lunch, and then go with him to the suburban kennels to inspect the pup that was intended to grow up with baby Barbara. It was a most promising dog Kit declared when he had looked it over, and managed to rescue his glove from the youngster’s white teeth, not so damaged but that it could be worn home, provided he remembered to hold the thumb well against his coat. Antony bought the pup and Kit bade it a cordial good-bye, holding its uneasy head between his palms as he looked into the purplish eyes, in process of change from blue to brown. “You’ve done me a favour, small dog, and I’ll do one for you when chance offers,” said Kit. “I suspect I’ve done you a favour already in helping you to a home with Antony and nice Mrs. Antony.” “Here, stop undermining me in my dog’s affections!” protested Antony. “That pup has no use for me while you’re around.” “Dogs and I are natural pals,” said Kit, releasing the puppy. “The trolley leaves on the even hour, Tony; we’ve got to get right out after it.” Warned by a shrill whistle they ran for their car from the corner. They made it and established themselves on the platform, lighting up their cigars and recovering breath. “Dogs and I do get on,” Kit reverted. “I like them, though that’s a fool remark. Most men do.” “Not all, though. How they keep off it beats me,” said Antony Paul. “When you want to say the best possible things about a man you attribute to him the qualities every good dog has, but not every good man, or men who are accounted good by themselves and others. Loyalty, fidelity, generosity, forgivingness, hero-worship, unfaltering love, patience, admiration, confidence--these are the things every good dog gives us. And intelligence! What a fine dog doesn’t know! It’s amazing the way they understand you. I had a dog once, the best comrade a fellow could have asked. When I----”