her fore-paws on his shoulders the instant he
recognized her, her noble face all alight with gladness and love.
Through ten acutely unhappy minutes she had nuzzled her friend's
hand, and gained never a hint of recognition or response. Then the
Master walked up to the auctioneer's rostrum, followed by Tara,
who, with no apparent effort, dragged the sulky, puzzled attendant
after him, paying not the slightest heed to his angry jerks at her
collar.

"I'm sorry," said the auctioneer, after a few moments'
conversation; "but I cannot possibly postpone the sale, can I? I
had my instructions direct from the owner, and she should know. I
am told the dog is positively to be sold, and---- No, there is no
reserve at all. Yes, certainly, I will take your cheque as deposit,
if you will get it endorsed by the Show Secretary. But---- Very
well, sir; no need to blame me about it. I'll give you five
minutes. Bring in lot 128, Johnson."

Five minutes was not much of a respite, but the Master meant to
make the most of it. See old Tara put up and sold to a dealer in
the ring, he felt he could not. The bare idea of her being held
there in the auction-room by a show attendant--Tara, the queen of
Wolfhound mothers, the daughter of innumerable generations of
Wolfhound queens, the noblest living dam of her noble race--was
maddening to the man who had bred and reared her, seen her through
her puppy's ills, and bred from her the most famous hounds of the
day. The groom said Mrs. Forsyth was in the tea-room, and there the
Master sought her, with anger and anxiety in his eye; sought her
unavailingly and in a frenzy of haste. To and fro he hurried
through the huge, noisy show building. At one moment of his
fruitless search he obtained a card from the Show Secretary stating
that his cheque might be accepted; but even as he thanked the
worried official for his confidence in an old exhibitor, he
realized with bitterness that he could not by any stretch of fancy
pretend that he was able to afford anything like the sort of price
that Tara would bring. Not a sign did he see of Mrs. Forsyth, and
at last a Kennel-man, whom he remembered tipping years before for
some slight service, informed him that he had seen Mrs. Forsyth
leaving the building some time before. Almost despairing now, and
conscious that the limit of time given him was passed, he hurried
back to the auction-room, caught a glimpse of his beautiful Tara
standing sorrowful and stately in the