still
possess) to do more than answer "yes" and "no"; also that it would be
the easiest thing for me to instruct Lola's daughter Ula--and so forth.
There are, in short, "winners" and "blanks" and betwixt the two, every
grade of differentiation. Yet, is this not equally true in the case of
teaching children? The best of teachers need not prove equally suitable
to all his pupils, while some other will turn out to be exactly the
right person. And this only shows us the difficulties which so
frequently obstruct the path of the best-intentioned people--where
investigations are concerned; obstructions which they themselves
oft-times do not notice, and to which no thought is given by prejudiced
persons. For with animals we come up against a more acute degree of
sensitiveness than we do in a child, which, owing to certain rudiments
of common sense, is able to adapt itself more easily to either teacher
or investigator.

Lola had remained with the Moekels for some time after the decease of
that estimable lady; it was, however, ultimately found desirable to
find other homes for some of the dogs. It was about that time that my
inquiry as to the possibility of procuring a descendant of Rolf reached
Professor Ziegler, and he at once seconded my application. Thus Lola
was kindly placed at my disposal. At first I felt some misgivings owing
to the fact that the dog was already two years old, and had also passed
through numerous hands, yet I determined to go to Mannheim, and my
visit took place as above narrated. Lola made a most delightful
impression on me, and I put few tests to my choice, for I was in a
state of some excitement after all that had taken place, and therefore
took her away with me joyfully. It had seemed as if I _must_ do this.

It was on 11 January, 1916. She sat in the railway carriage with me,
and began to howl violently when she saw Mannheim disappearing from her
gaze. I tried to console her, saying: "Don't cry! You shall be quite
happy with me!" It was then that Lola looked at me for the first time
attentively. She quieted down and our friendship seemed sealed. She was
apparently resigned to her fate; she was also doubtless aware that she
had played "second fiddle" at Mannheim, and that it would, therefore,
be preferable to be somewhere "on her own." That something of the kind
was passing through her mind I could see--also that she was quite aware
that she now belonged to me, and imagined she would be alone with m