centre of Hyde Park, and brought her back, and so ended Rory Bean's last
season in London.

"A few days before this escapade I took out Rory in one of the few
squares where dogs are still allowed to accompany their masters. Bean
had a naive way, when bored, of inviting you or any casual passer-by
that she might chance to see, to a good game of romps with her. Her
method was very simple. She would run round barking, but her voice was
very deep, as of a voice in some subterranean cavern; and with strangers
this did not invariably awaken on their side a joyous reciprocity.
Somehow, big dogs always ignore their size.

"They have a confirmed habit of creeping under tiny tables, and hanker
after squeezing themselves through impossible gaps. Being, as a rule,
quite innocent of all desire to injure any member of the human race,
they cannot realise that it is possible that they in their turn can
frighten anybody.

"I remember on this particular occasion that I was interested in my
book, and that when Rory had barked round me I had refused to play with
her. For some time she had lain down quietly beside me, when suddenly an
old gentleman came into view. He held in his hand a stick, with which he
meditatively struck the pebbles of the pathway as he walked along.

"At the sight of him Rory jumped up. She could not resist this
particular action on his part, which she considered a special invitation
to come and join in a good romp. To my consternation, before I could
prevent her, I saw her barking and jumping round the poor frightened old
gentleman, in good-natured but ominous-looking play.

"Seeing that he was really alarmed, I rushed off to his rescue, seized
my dog and apologised. Wishing at the same time to say something that
might somewhat condone her conduct, I said: 'I am very sorry, sir, but
you see she is only a puppy,' and pointed to Rory.

"This was not quite a correct statement, as my four-footed friend was at
that time about two years old, and measured nearly thirty inches from
the shoulder, but, as the old man seemed really frightened and muttered
two ugly words in connection with each other, 'Hydrophobia' and
'Police,' I was determined to do all I could to reassure him and smooth
down his ruffled plumes.

"However, my elderly acquaintance would not be comforted, and I heard
him muttering to himself as he retired from the square, 'Puppy indeed!
Puppy indeed!'

"Bean's death was very sad. Two years ago we left h