"patient," a
napkin tucked in his collar, the rubber dam depending from his mouth.
All the flat knew of the feud between the dogs, but never before had the
pair been brought face to face.

Meanwhile, the collie and the setter had drawn near to each other;
five feet apart they paused as if by mutual consent. The collie turned
sidewise to the setter; the setter instantly wheeled himself flank on to
the collie. Their tails rose and stiffened, they raised their lips over
their long white fangs, the napes of their necks bristled, and they
showed each other the vicious whites of their eyes, while they drew in
their breaths with prolonged and rasping snarls. Each dog seemed to be
the personification of fury and unsatisfied hate. They began to circle
about each other with infinite slowness, walking stiffed-legged and
upon the very points of their feet. Then they wheeled about and began to
circle in the opposite direction. Twice they repeated this motion, their
snarls growing louder. But still they did not come together, and
the distance of five feet between them was maintained with an almost
mathematical precision. It was magnificent, but it was not war. Then the
setter, pausing in his walk, turned his head slowly from his enemy. The
collie sniffed the air and pretended an interest in an old shoe lying
in the gutter. Gradually and with all the dignity of monarchs they
moved away from each other. Alexander stalked back to the corner of
the street. The collie paced toward the side gate whence he had issued,
affecting to remember something of great importance. They disappeared.
Once out of sight of one another they began to bark furiously.

"Well, I NEVER!" exclaimed Trina in great disgust. "The way those two
dogs have been carrying on you'd 'a' thought they would 'a' just torn
each other to pieces when they had the chance, and here I'm wasting the
whole morning----" she closed her window with a bang.

"Sick 'im, sick 'im," called Maria Macapa, in a vain attempt to promote
a fight.

Old Miss Baker came out of the vestibule, pursing her lips, quite
put out at the fiasco. "And after all that fuss," she said to herself
aggrievedly.

The little dressmaker bought an envelope of nasturtium seeds at the
florist's, and returned to her tiny room in the flat. But as she slowly
mounted the first flight of steps she suddenly came face to face with
Old Grannis, who was coming down. It was between eight and nine, and
he was on his way to