what I came for. Let me." A younger groom, awaiting
this instruction, goes for the dog, whose clamour has increased tenfold,
becoming almost frenzy when he sees his friend of the day before; for he
is Achilles beyond a doubt. Achilles, mad with joy--or is it unendurable
distress?--or both?

"Your leddyship will have seen him before, doubtless," says old
Archibald. He does not say, but means:--"We are puzzled, but submissive,
and look forward to enlightenment."

"Let him go--yes, _I_ know him!--don't hold him. Oh, Achilles, you
darling dog--it _is_ you!... Yes--yes--let him go--he'll be all
right.... Yes, dear, you _shall_ kiss me as much as you like." Thia was
in response to a tremendous accolade, after which the dog crouched
humbly at his idol's feet; whimpering a little still, beneath his
breath, about something he could not say. She for her part caressed and
soothed the frightened creature, asking the while for information about
the manner of his appearance the night before.

It seemed that on the previous evening about eight o'clock he had been
found in the Park just outside the door of the walled garden south of
the Castle, as though he was seeking to follow someone who had passed
through. That at least was the impression of Margery, a kitchen-maid,
whom inquiry showed to have been the source of the first person plural
in the narrative of Tom Kettering, the young groom, who had come upon
the dog crouched against this door; and, judging him to be in danger in
the open Park, had brought him home to the stables for security.

How had the collie behaved when brought up to the stable? Well--he had
been fair quiet--only that he was always for going out after any who
were leaving, and always "wakeriff, panting, and watching like," till
he, Tom Kettering, tied him up for the night. And then he started crying
and kept on at it till they turned out, maybe half an hour since.

"He has not got his own collar," said the young lady suddenly. "Where is
his own collar?"

"He had ne'er a one on his neck when I coom upon him," says Tom. "So we
putten this one on for a makeshift."

"It's mair than leekly, my lady,"--thus old Archibald--"that he will
have slipped from out his ain by reason of eempairfect workmanship of
the clasp. Ye'll ken there's a many cheap collars sold...." The old boy
is embarking on a lecture on collar-structure, which, however, he is not
allowed to finish. The young lady interrupts.

"I saw his collar,