and it was evident that Captain Middleton's dog had a long
pedigree; it was all quite clearly set down, and, to Jan, very
bewildering.

"His points are on the back page," Captain Middleton said proudly, "and
there isn't a single one a perfect bull-terrier ought to have that
William Bloomsbury hasn't got."

"Is that his name?"

"Yes, but I call him William, only he is of the famous Bloomsbury
strain, you know, and one can't help being a bit proud of it."

"But," Jan objected, "if he's so well-bred and perfect, he must be
valuable--so why should you want to give him to me?"

"I'll explain," said Captain Middleton. "You see, ever since they've
been down at Wren's End, my aunt kept him for me. He's been so happy
there, Miss Ross, and grown like anything. We're stationed in St. John's
Wood just now, you know, and he'd be certain to be stolen if I took him
back there. And now my aunt's coming to London to a flat in Buckingham
Gate. Now London's no life for a dog--a young dog, anyway--he'd be
miserable. I've been down to Wren's End very often for a few days'
hunting, and I can see he's happy as a king there, and we may be ordered
anywhere any day ... and I don't want to sell him ... You see, I know if
you take him you'll be good to him ... and he _is_ such a nice beast."

"How do you know I'd be good to him? You know nothing about me."

"Don't I just! Besides, I've seen you, I'm seeing you now this
minute ... I don't want to force him on you, only ... a lady living
alone in the country ought to have a dog, and if you take William you
won't be sorry--I can promise you that. He's got the biggest heart, and
he's the nicest beast ... and the most faithful...."

"Are you sure he'll be quite gentle with the children?"

"He's gentle with everybody, and they're well known to be particularly
good with children ... you ask anyone who knows about dogs. He was given
me when he was three weeks old, and I could put him in my pocket."

Captain Middleton was rather appealing just then, so earnest and big and
boyish. His face was broad though lean, the features rather blunt, the
eyes set wide apart; clear, trustworthy, light-blue eyes. He looked just
what he was--a healthy, happy, prosperous young Englishman without a
real care in the world. After all, Jan reflected, there was plenty of
room at Wren's End, and it was good for the children to grow up with
animals.

"I had thought of an Airedale," she said thoughtfully, "but----"