But Oliver walked about and looked at things. "I like your water colors," he said. "Did you collect them yourself!" "Yes." "I congratulate you on your taste. This is a beauty." The appreciation brought Doggie at once to his side. He took Oliver delightedly around the pictures, expounding their merits and their little histories. Doggie was just beginning to like the big fellow, when, stopping before the collection of china dogs, the latter spoiled everything. "My dear Doggie," he said, "is that your family?" "It's the finest collection of the kind in the world," replied Doggie stiffly, "and is worth several thousand pounds." Oliver heaved himself into a chair--that was Doggie's impression of his method of sitting down. "Forgive me, Doggie," he said, "but you're so funny. Pictures and music I can understand. But what on earth is the point of these little dogs?" Doggie was hurt. "It would be useless to try to explain," he said, with dignity. "And my name is Marmaduke." Oliver took off his hat and sent it skimming to the couch. "Look here, old chap," he said, "I seem to have put my foot in it. I didn't mean to, really. I'll call you Marmaduke, if you like, instead of Doggie--though it's a beast of a name. I'm a rough sort of chap. I've had ten years' pretty tough training. I've slept on boards; I've slept in the open without a cent to hire a board. I've gone cold and I've gone hungry, and men have knocked me about, and I've lost most of my politeness. In the wilds if a man once gets the name, say, of Duck-Eyed Joe, it sticks to him, and he accepts it, and answers to it, and signs it." "But I'm not in the wilds," objected Marmaduke, "and haven't the slightest intention of ever leading the unnatural and frightful life you describe. So what you say doesn't apply to me." Oliver, laughing, clapped him on the shoulder. "You don't give a fellow a chance," he said. "Look here, tell me, as man to man, what are you going to do with your life? Here you are, young, strong, educated, intelligent--" "I'm not strong," said Doggie. "A month's exercise would make you as strong as a mule," returned Oliver. "Here you are--what are you going to do with yourself?" "I don't admit that you have any right to question me," said Doggie. "Peggy and I had a talk," declared Oliver. "I said I'd take you out with me to the Islands and give you a taste for fresh air and salt water and exercise. I'll teach you how to sail a schooner and how to go about barefoot and swab decks." Doggie smiled pityingly, but said politely, "Your offer is kind, Oliver, but I don't think that sort of life would suit me." Being a man of intelligence, he realized that Oliver's offer arose from a genuine desire to do him service. But if a friendly bull out of the fulness of its affection invited you to accompany it to the meadow and eat grass, what could you do but courteously decline the invitation?