to be
a dog puzzled him. In his former dwelling-place a four-footed brother
was greeted with enthusiasm when he was a friend, with suspicious
diplomacy when a stranger, and with sharp reproof when an enemy; but
never had he been utterly ignored.

He remembered something that he had read many times on great buildings
with lofty entrances. "Dogs not admitted," the signs had said, and he
feared this might be the reason for the waiting circle outside the gate.
It might be that this noble portal stood as the dividing-line between
mere dogs and humans. But he had been a member of the family, romping
with them in the living-room, sitting at meals with them in the
dining-room, going upstairs at night with them, and the thought that he
was to be "kept out" would be unendurable.

He despised the passive dogs. They should be treating a barrier after
the fashion of their old country, leaping against it, barking, and
scratching the nicely painted door. He bounded up the last little hill
to set them an example, for he was still full of the rebellion of the
world; but he found no door to leap against. He could see beyond the
entrance dear masses of people, yet no dog crossed the threshold. They
continued in their patient ring, their gaze upon the winding road.

He now advanced cautiously to examine the gate. It occurred to him that
it must be fly-time in this region, and he did not wish to make himself
ridiculous before all these strangers by trying to bolt through an
invisible mesh like the one that had baffled him when he was a little
chap. Yet there were no screens, and despair entered his soul. What
bitter punishment these poor beasts must have suffered before they
learned to stay on this side the arch that led to human beings! What
had they done on earth to merit this? Stolen bones troubled his
conscience, runaway days, sleeping in the best chair until the key
clicked in the lock. These were sins.

At that moment an English bull-terrier, white, with liver-colored spots
and a jaunty manner, approached him, snuffling in a friendly way. No
sooner had the bull-terrier smelt his collar than he fell to expressing
his joy at meeting him. The Airedale's reserve was quite thawed by this
welcome, though he did not know just what to make of it.

"I know you! I know you!" exclaimed the bull-terrier, adding
inconsequently, "What's your name?"

"Tam o'Shanter. They call me Tammy," was the answer, with a pardonable
break in the voice.