I suppose I must charge the $460 which this outfit cost to the farm account and pay yearly interest on it, for it is a fixture; but I protest that it is not essential to the construction of a factory farm, and it may be omitted by those who have no daughter Jane. There were other things hinging on Jane's home-staying which made me think that, from the standpoint of economy, I had made a mistake in not sending her back to Farmington. It was not long before the dog proposition was sprung upon me; insidiously at first, until I had half committed myself, and then with such force and sweep as to take me off my prudent feet. My own faithful terrier, which had dogged my heels for three years, seemed a member of the family, and reasonably satisfied my dog needs. That Jane should wish a terrier of some sort to tug at her skirts and claw her lace was no more than natural, and I was quite willing to buy a blue blood and think nothing of the $20 or $30 which it might cost. We canvassed the list of terriers,--bull, Boston, fox, Irish, Skye, Scotch, Airedale, and all,--and had much to say in favor of each. One day Jane said:-- "Dad, what do you think of the Russian wolf-hound?" "Fine as silk," said I, not seeing the trap; "the handsomest dog that runs." "I think so, too. I saw some beauties in the Seabright kennels. Wouldn't one of them look fine on the lawn?--lemon and white, and so tall and silky. I saw one down there, and he wasn't a year old, but his tail looked like a great white ostrich feather, and it touched the ground. Wouldn't it be grand to have such a dog follow me when I rode. Say, Dad, why not have one?" "What do you suppose a good one would cost?" "I don't know, but a good bit more than a terrier, if they sell dogs by size. May I write and find out?" "There's no harm in doing that," said I, like the jellyfish that I am. Jane wasted no time, but wrote at once, and at least seventeen times each day, until the reply came, she gave me such vivid accounts of the beauties of the beasts and of the pleasure she would have in owning one, that I grew enthusiastic as well, and quite made up my mind that she should not be disappointed. When the letter came, there was suppressed excitement until she had read it, and then excitement unsuppressed. "Dad, we can have Alexis, son of Katinka by Peter the Great, for $125! See what the letter says: 'Eleven months old, tall and strong in quarters, white, with even lemon markings, better head than Marksman, and a sure winner in the best of company.' Isn't that great? And I don't think $125 is much, do you?" "Not for a horse or a house, dear, but for a dog--" "But you know, Dad, this isn't a common dog. We mustn't think of it as a dog; it's a barzoi; that isn't too much for a barzoi, is it?" "Not for a barzoi, or a yacht either; I guess you will have to have one or the other."