g I should still see flowers in my
garden, but none the less the sentence had been pronounced. Summer was
dead.

I suppose it is a question of temperament. Youth can enjoy the moment.
Age must look forward. There is plenty of work to do in this garden in
the autumn, and not a little in the winter. And all the time one is
looking forward to the spring--to the coming of the new leaves and the
fresh green.

But then, throughout the summer, one is haunted with fear and hatred of
the coming winter. Even as one plants or sows, one seems to see the
September weed fire.

It is better not to be wearisome, sentimental, and self-pitying on the
subject, for one might get into that state of mind when, throughout the
winter, one would no longer dare to look forward to the summer, because
one would know the summer would be haunted with the hatred of the next
winter. From which refinement and desolation may I be delivered.

ZERO

CHAPTER I

James Smith was a trainer and exhibitor of performing dogs. His age was
forty-five, but on the stage he looked less, moving always with an
alertness suggestive of youth. His face was dominant, but not cruel. He
never petted a dog. On the other hand, he never thrashed a dog, unless
he considered that the dog had deserved it. He had small eyes and a
strong jaw. He was somewhat undersized, and his body was lean and hard.
This afternoon, clad in a well-cut flannel suit, and wearing a straw
hat, he sat on the steps of a bathing-machine on the beach at Helmstone.
He was waiting for the man inside the machine to come out. Meanwhile he
made himself a cigarette, rolling it on his leg with one hand, and
securing the paper by a small miracle instead of by gum.

As he lit the cigarette the door of the bathing-machine opened, and a
tall young man of athletic build came out. He was no better dressed than
James Smith. At the same time, it was just as obvious that he was a
gentleman as that Smith was not.

"Hallo!" said the young man. "You're all right again, I see. What was
it--touch of cramp?"

"No, sir," said Smith. "I'm not a strong swimmer, and I've done no sea
bathing before. I never meant to get out of my depth, but the current
took me. What I want now is to do something to show my gratitude."

"Gratitude be blowed!" said the young man cheerfully. "It was no trouble
to me, and I happened to be there."

"Well, sir," said Smith, "will you let me give you a dog? I've got some
very good