eep him on a chain."

"So would I!" said Avery impulsively.

The words were out before she could check them. It was a subject upon
which she found it impossible to maintain her reticence.

Piers grinned triumphantly and thrust out a boyish hand. "Shake!" he
said. "We are in sympathy!"

But Avery only shook her head at him, refusing to be drawn.
"People--plenty of nice people--have no idea of the utter cruelty of it,"
she said. "They think that if a dog has never known liberty, he is
incapable of desiring it. They don't know, they don't realize, the
bitterness of life on a chain."

"Don't know and don't care!" declared Piers. "They deserve to be chained
up themselves. One day on a chain would teach your nice people quite a
lot. But no one cultivates feeling in this valley of dry bones. It isn't
the thing nowadays. Let a dog whine his heart out on a chain! Who cares?
There's no room for sentimental scruples of that sort. Can't you see the
Reverend Stephen smile at the bare idea of extending a little of his
precious Christian pity to a dog?" He broke off with a laugh that rang
defiantly. "Now it's your turn!" he said.

"My turn?" Avery glanced at his dark, handsome face with a touch of
curiosity.

He met her eyes with his own as if he would beat them back. "Aren't you
generous enough to remind me that but for your timely interference I
should have beaten my own dog to death only yesterday? You were almost
ready to flog me for it at the time."

"Oh, that!" Avery said, looking away again. "Yes, of course I might
remind you of that if I wanted to be personal; but, you see,--I don't."

"Why not!" said Piers stubbornly. "You were personal enough yesterday."

The dimple, for which Avery was certainly not responsible, appeared
suddenly near her mouth. "I am afraid I lost my temper yesterday," she
said.

"How wrong of you!" said Piers. "I hope you confessed to the
Reverend Stephen."

She glanced at him again and became grave. "No, I didn't confess to
anyone. But I think it's a pity ever to lose one's temper. It involves a
waste of power."

"Does it?" said Piers.

"Yes." She nodded with conviction. "We need all the strength we can
muster for other things. How is your dog to-day?"

Piers ignored the question. "What other things?" he demanded.

She hesitated.

"Go on!" said Piers imperiously.

Avery complied half-reluctantly. "I meant--mainly--the burdens of life.
We can't afford to weaken ourselves by any los