something about bundling the dog into her crate again and sending
her back to the Rothsay Kennels. "Let her stay, please! She's a
dear."

"But we're not breeding 'dears,'" observed the Master. "We
planned to breed a strain of perfect collies. And this is a
mutt!"

"Her pedigree says there's no better collie blood in America,"
denied the Mistress. "And even if she happens to be a 'second,'
that's no sign her puppies will be seconds. See how pretty and
loving and wise she is. DO keep her!"

Which of course settled the matter.

Up the lawn, from his morning swim in the lake, strolled a great
mahogany-and-white collie. At sight of Lass he lowered his head
for a charge. He was king of The Place's dogs, this mighty
thoroughbred, Sunnybank Lad. And he did not welcome canine
intruders.

But he halted midway in his dash toward the puppy who frisked
forth so gayly to meet him. For he recognized her as a female.
And man is the only animal that will molest the female of his
species.

The fiercely silent charge was changed in a trice to a coldly
civil touching of noses, and the majestic wagging of a plumy
tail. After which, side by side, the two collies--big and little
--old and new--walked up to the veranda, to be petted by the