orderly rascal was Finn at
this stage.

[Illustration]

On the morning which ended Finn's fifth week in the world, all the
pups were solemnly weighed in the kitchen scales, which were
brought into the coach-house for that purpose. The Master stood by
with a note-book, and these are the weights he recorded:--

Fawn bitch 10 3/4 lbs.
Grey bitch 11 1/4 lbs.
Fawn dog 12 lbs. 3 oz.
Finn 14 lbs. 4 oz.

In other words, at the age of five weeks, and while still a
suckling pup, Finn weighed as much as some prize-winning fox
terriers, and that breed when fully developed, in point of size,
though not, of course, shapely or set. After corresponding with
other breeders, the Master was confirmed in his already-expressed
conviction that, thus far, Finn was a maker and breaker of records.

During the week following this weighing Finn was only allowed to
visit his foster-mother once, for half an hour or so, in each day.
But the meals he lapped from a dish, in his own blundering way,
included broth now, as well as milky foods, and he still slept with
the foster at night. During the next week--in fine, dry July
weather--all four puppies were gambolling together in the orchard,
from six in the morning till six at night, and never saw the
foster-mothers till they were tired out with their day-long play
and ready for the night's sleep. The Master and the Mistress took
their own lunch and tea in the orchard at this time, and a table
and chairs were kept under a big oak tree for this purpose. In and
out among the legs of these chairs and the table the Wolfhound pups
played boisterously hour by hour, till fatigue overtook them, with
capricious suddenness, and they would fall asleep in the midst of
some absurd antic and in any odd position that came handy.

Then one of the pups, usually Finn, would open his eyes and yawn,
realize once more how good life was, and plunge forthwith upon his
still sleeping brothers and sisters, tumbling them triumphantly
into the midst of a new romp before they knew whether they were on
their heads or their heels. A twig, a leaf, or a stone would be
endowed with the attributes of some cunning and fierce quarry, to
be stalked, run down, and finally torn in sunder with marvellous
heroism, with reckless, noisy valour. The sun shone warm and
sweetly over all, there beside the immemorial Sussex Downs; life
and the dry old earth were very, very good--if only one's breath
did not give out so soon, an