"Wot I've always wanted to know is how the blinkin' dog got loose in the street that day," mused McFaddan. "He was the most obstinate dog I ever saw. It was absolutely impossible to coax 'im into the stable-yard when Higgins's bull terrier was avisitin' us, and you couldn't get him into the stall with Dandy Boy,--not to save your life. He seemed to know that hoss would kick his bloomin' gizzard out. I used to throw little hunks of meat into the stall for him, too,--nice little morsels that any other dog in the world would have been proud to risk anything for. But him? Not a bit of it. He was the most disappointin', bull-headed animal I ever saw. I've always meant to ask how did it happen, Julia?" "I had him out for his stroll," said Julia, with a faraway, pleased expression in her eyes. "I thought as how he might be interested in seeing the bride and groom, and all that, when they came out of the church, so I took him around past Claridge's, and would you believe it he got away from me right in the thick of the carriages. He was that kind of a dog. He would always have his own way. I was terribly upset, McFaddan. You must remember how I carried on, crying and moaning and all that till her ladyship had to send for the doctor. It seemed to sort of get her mind off her bereavement, my hysterics did." "You made a puffeck nuisance of yourself," said Cricklewick. "I took notice, however, Mr. Cricklewick, that _you_ didn't shed any tears," said she coldly. "Certainly not," said the butler. "I admit I should have cried as much as anybody. You've no idea how fond the little darling was of me. There was hardly a day he didn't take a bite out of me, he liked me so much. He used to go without his regular meals, he had such a preference for my calves. I've got marks on me to this day." "And just to think, it was twenty-six years ago," sighed Moody. "'Ow times 'ave changed." "Not as much as you'd think," said Julia, a worried look in her eyes. "My mistress is talking of getting another dog,--after all these years. She swore she'd never have another one to take 'is place." "Thank 'eavings," said Moody devoutly, "I am in another situation." He winked and chuckled loudly. "As 'andsome a pair as you'll see in a twelve-month," said McFaddan. "He is a--" "Ahem!" coughed the butler. "There is some one on the stairs, Julia." Silently, swiftly, the group dissolved. Cricklewick took his place in the foyer, Julia clattered down the stairs to the barred gate, Moody went into the big drawing-room where sat the Marchioness, resplendent,--the Marchioness, who, twenty-six years before, had owned a pet that came to a sad and inglorious end on a happy wedding-day, and she alone of a large and imposing household had been the solitary mourner. She was the Marchioness of Camelford in those days.