after a poodle. It has determined Bingo unalterably to grow up in the
right way.

You have Bingo now definitely a Pekinese. That being so, I may refer to
his ancestors, always an object of veneration among these Easterns. I
speak of (hats off, please!) Ch. Goodwood Lo.

Of course you know (I didn't myself till last week) that "Ch."
stands for "Champion." On the male side Champion Goodwood Lo is Bingo's
great-great-grandfather. On the female side the same animal is Bingo's
great-grandfather. One couldn't be a poodle after that. A fortnight after
Bingo came to us we found in a Pekinese book a photograph of Goodwood Lo.
How proud we all were! Then we saw above it, "Celebrities of the
Past. The Late--"

Champion Goodwood Lo was no more! In one moment Bingo had lost both his
great-grandfather and his great-great-grandfather!

We broke it to him as gently as possible, but the double shock was too
much, and he passed the evening in acute depression. Annoyed with my
tactlessness in letting him know anything about it, I kicked Humphrey off
his stool. Humphrey, I forgot to say, has a squeak if kicked in the right
place. He squeaked.

Bingo, at that time still uncertain of his destiny, had at least the
courage of the lion. Just for a moment he hesitated. Then with a pounce
he was upon Humphrey.

Till then I had regarded Humphrey--save for his power of rolling the eyes
and his habit of taking long jumps from the music-stool to the
book-case--as rather a sedentary character. But in the fight which
followed he put up an amazingly good resistance. At one time he was
underneath Bingo; the next moment he had Bingo down; first one, then the
other, seemed to gain the advantage. But blood will tell. Humphrey's
ancestry is unknown; I blush to say that it may possibly be German. Bingo
had Goodwood Lo to support him--in two places. Gradually he got the upper
hand; and at last, taking the reluctant Humphrey by the ear, he dragged
him laboriously beneath the sofa. He emerged alone, with tail wagging,
and was taken on to his mistress's lap. There he slept, his grief
forgotten.

So Humphrey was found a job. Whenever Bingo wants exercise, Humphrey
plants himself in the middle of the room, his eyes cast upwards in an
affectation of innocence. "I'm just sitting here," says Humphrey; "I
believe there's a fly on the ceiling." It is a challenge which no
great-grandson of Goodwood Lo could resist. With a rush Bingo is at him.
"I'll learn you to