auction sale of dogs was being held. There he sat down on a
chair at the edge of the ring in which the dogs for sale were being
led to and fro by attendants for inspection.

After a while a young Irish Wolfhound was led into the ring for
sale, and immediately monopolized the Master's attention, for it
was a dog of his own breeding, sold by him from the country home,
Croft, soon after weaning time. He handled the dog with a deal of
interest, and was expatiating upon its merits to a small group of
possible buyers when he felt another dog nuzzling his arm and wrist
from behind, where it was evidently held by a chain, or in some
other way prevented from coming farther forward, for its muzzle was
pressing hard under his cuff. But the Master was too much
interested in examining the young hound then being offered for sale
to pay any attention to any other animal. In due course, however,
the young Wolfhound was sold and led away, and the auctioneer was
heard to say--

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to lot number a hundred and
twenty-seven, lot one-two-seven, the--er--the--er--er--yes, ladies
and gentlemen, the dam of the fine young hound just sold--a
remarkable good bargain, too--to my friend Mr. Scarr-Hislop. This
magnificent bitch, whose show record I will read to you directly,
is, most of you are probably aware, by the famous Champion O'Leary,
ex--er--Come, come, man; let's have that bitch in the ring, please.
No one can see her there."

The auctioneer spoke sharply to an attendant who stood close to the
Master's seat tugging at a chain. The Master, who had been busy
in conversation up till that moment, turned now to respond to the
pressingly affectionate advances of the unseen animal, whose cold
muzzle he had felt at his wrist for some minutes past.

"Just push her out for me, sir, if you please," said the rebuked
attendant, sulkily. "I can't get her to budge from your chair. The
brute's as strong as a mule."

"Let me have the chain a minute," said the Master, as he rose from
his chair. "I expect you've frightened the---- Why--Great Caesar!
Why--Tara! Tara--dear--old--lady. Who the devil put this hound in
here?"

"Mrs. Forsyth, the owner, put her in; she's for sale, without
reserve," said a groom, who forced his way forward through the
crowd at this moment.

The Master wasted some moments, but not many, in wondering,
disgusted expostulation, while fondling the head of poor Tara, who
had stood erect with