ch more afraid that my aunt will see Alcibiades." On the edge of the
Heath she met him. "Here's the dear dog," she said. "Oh, can't you find
a stronger chain?"

"I'll try," said he. "What a ripping day, isn't it? Oh, are you going
straight back? I wish we'd met anywhere but at a bazaar."

"So do I," she said heartfeltly, and caressed the now careless Aberdeen:
it was at a bazaar that she had had to sell that angel.

"Mayn't I walk home with you?" he said. And she could not think of any
polite way of saying no, though she knew just how terrible Alcibiades
would make the final parting.

Next morning the chain dragged by Alcibiades was slightly thicker; it
also was filed, and this too Judy failed to notice. Early as it was she
did not go out in the mackintosh but in something simple and blue, with
kingfisher's wings in her hat.

The morning was thinly bright. Alcibiades saw a cat and chased it
towards Morden College just as Judy met Captain Graeme. It was, for her,
impossible not to follow the "cur." And how could the Captain do
otherwise than follow, too? And if two people walk together it is
churlish not to talk.

Next day the chain was thicker, the hour propitious, and the walk
longer; that was the day when she found out that he had known her father
in South Africa.

The days passed with a delightful monotony. The Aunt and her pet Tabbies
all day, a sound sleep, an early waking, a heavenly meeting with
Alcibiades at the back door, the restoring of him to his master. And
every day the chain grew heavier, the walks longer, the talks more
interesting and more intimate.

It was very wrong, of course, but what was the girl to do? You cannot be
rude to a man who is saving your dog, your darling, from rat-poisons,
rivers and ropes. And if dogs _will_ break chains, why--so will girls.

It was on Christmas Day that the spell was shattered. Judy awoke at the
accustomed time, but no welcome whine, no pathetic scrabble of eager
paws broke the respectable stillness of the Aunt's house. Judy listened.
She even crept down to the side gate. A feeling of misery, of real
physical faintness came over her. Alcibiades was not there! he had not
come! He had, indeed, forgotten her.

The conviction that the master of Alcibiades would be the last to
appreciate the new attachment of his dog comforted her a little; but for
all that the day was grey, life seemed well-nigh worthless. Judy now had
leisure to reconsider her position, and