the mantel; and Finn never blinked or moved a hair, save that the tip of
his long tail just languidly rose twice, ever so gently slapping the
rug. The Master, who was watching, laughed at this.

"You may account yourself an honored friend already, Betty," he said.
"I'll guarantee no other living soul, except the Mistress or I, could
step over old Finn like that without his moving. In these days he
doesn't unguard to that extent with any one else."

"Ah, well," laughed Betty; "even less wise dogs than Finn know who loves
them--don't they, old man?"

Finn blinked a friendly response as she rubbed his ears. But as yet it
was not that. Finn had given no thought to Betty's loving him; but he
had realized that she was kin to the Mistress and the Master, and
therefore, for him, in a category apart from all other folk, animal or
human; a person to be trusted absolutely, even by a hound of his unique
experience.




II

NUTHILL AND SHAWS


In a recess beside the hearth in the hall at Nuthill Finn found an oaken
platform, or bench, five feet long by two and a half feet wide. It stood
perhaps fifteen inches from the floor, on four stout legs, and its two