by private treaty, double the sum would not
purchase her. What am I to say for the gentleman who appeared to be
recognized by this fine animal? Surely, sir, civility demands a
little recognition of such touching devotion!"

"We're not dealing in personalities, sir," snapped the Master.
"Sixty guineas!"

And then he turned on his heel; this desperate bid being far more
than he could afford. The auctioneer smiled amiably.

"As you say, sir, this is strict business, strict business; and all
I am offered for this magnificent hound, gentlemen, is sixty
guineas! But my instructions are to sell, gentlemen; and sell I
must, whatever the figure." He raised his hammer. "At sixty
guineas, gent--and one. At sixty-one guineas, gentlemen; lot number
127 is going--a rare bargain for somebody--going! Will nobody try
another guinea on this magnifi----Thank _you_, sir! That's a little
better, gentlemen. Seventy guineas I think you said, sir?"--this to
the man in the kennel-coat, who had returned from his visit to the
back of the crowd.

The ferret-faced dealer who had bid sixty-one guineas now turned
his back on the ring; and, as he heard the cry of seventy guineas,
the Master moved slowly forward among the crowd toward the door of
the building. He dared not offer more, and he could not wait to see
Tara led out of the ring by some stranger. He paused a moment,
without looking up, and heard the auctioneer's "Going, going,
gone!" Then he walked to the entrance of the main hall, to escape
from the scene of so grievous a disappointment.

Outside, in the main building, while moodily filling a pipe, the
Master decided that, whatever happened, he must find out who had
purchased Tara in order that he might put in a word for his dear
old friend, and thereby, it might be, ensure more consideration for
her in her new home. There were one or two little whims and
peculiarities of hers which he must explain. He thought of pretty
Mrs. Forsyth and her broken pledge regarding Tara. He looked along
the dusty, littered hall, and, in the distance, saw an elderly lady
leading an Irish Wolfhound. A moment later, and he recognized the
hound as Tara, and the lady as a good friend of his own, a kindly,
wealthy Yorkshire woman who had bought two whelps of him before he
left the country, and with whom he had corresponded since. He had
visited this lady, too, to help her in the matter of some doggy
trouble of hers. Now she was walking directly toward him, le