I think she has quite recovered
from the effects of that awful journey."

[Illustration: Finn and his foster-mother]

"Um! Yes, twelve or fourteen hours' travelling with three new-born
pups must be rather awful--poor little beast! Did she take her
breakfast?"

"Yes; a first-rate meal. And I think she will be a good mother. She
seems to have any amount of milk--more than is comfortable for her,
poor little thing!"

"Yes; that's exactly what I want. I want her to be uncomfortably
heavy for the time, and then she will be the less likely to resent
my great big Finn's introduction. It's only discomfort, you know,
not pain; and we shall put it right in a couple of hours."

"Then you have decided to put Finn to the foster-mother?"

"Yes. You see, poor old Tara--well, she----"

"Yes, I know; she's poor old Tara--spoiled darling!"

The Master chuckled. "Well, perhaps it is partly that. And, any
way, she deserves it. The old girl has done a good share of prize-winning,
and nursing, and the rest of it. I think of her as a lady
who has earned repose, particularly after----"

"Yes, I know; the illness, you mean."

"Well, anyhow, I think four pups quite enough for her to nurse.
And, as a matter of fact, I am none too comfortable about that. You
know I have always believed that that awful bout of mammitis
permanently affected her; her heart, and----and other things, too.
Four days with a temperature of over a hundred and five, you know;
and, mind you, the vet. said she must die. It was, so to say, in
spite of Nature that we pulled her through. I am not at all sure
that we may not have to take them all from her. We shall see better
by to-night."

"Yes; I see." The Mistress of the Kennels was thoughtfully
balancing on the tip of her fore-finger a big wooden spoon, used in
the mixing of Tara's meals. "But why do you choose Finn for the
foster?"

"Well, now, that's rather a nice point, and involves a conviction
of mine which I know you'll resent, because you rightly think Tara
the perfection of all that a Wolfhound should be. But the
conviction is right, all the same. A mongrel's milk is far
stronger, heartier food than the milk of so highly-bred a great
lady as dear old Tara. Tara gives the most aristocratic blood in
the world; but when you come to food, the nourishment that is to
build up bone and muscle, and hardy health--that's different. Also,
I only mean to give the foster this one pup, though I dare say she
is cap