"And THAT'S Rothsay Princess!" he snorted indignantly. "That's
the pup worth two hundred dollars at eight months, 'because she
has every single good point of Champion Rothsay Chief and not a
flaw from nostril to tail-tip'! Rothsay wrote those very words
about her, you remember. And he's supposed to be the most
dependable man in the collie business! Lord! She's undersized--no
bigger than a five monther! And she's prick-eared and apple-
domed; and her head's as wide as a church door!"

Apparently these humans were not glad to see her. Lass was
grieved at their cold appraisal and a little frightened by the
Master's tone of disgust. Yet she was eager, as ever, to make a
good impression and to lure people into liking her. Shyly she
walked up to the Mistress and laid one white little paw on her
knee.

Handshaking was Lass's one accomplishment. It had been taught her
by Dick. It had pleased the boy. He had been proud of her ability
to do it. Perhaps it might also please these strangers. And after
the odd fashion of all new arrivals who came to The Place, Lass
picked out the Mistress, rather than any one else, as a potential
friend.

The Mistress had ever roused the impatience of collie experts by
looking past the showier "points" of a dog and into the soul and
brain and disposition that lay behind them. So now she looked;
and what she saw in Lass's darkly wistful eyes established the
intruder's status at The Place.

"Let her stay!" pleaded the Mistress as the Master growled