There were but three collies on the Place, in those days. Lad;
his dainty gold-and-white mate, Lady; and their fluffy and fiery
wisp of a son, little Wolf.

When Wolf was a spoiled and obstreperous puppy of three months or
so, Lady was stricken with distemper and was taken to a
veterinary hospital. There, for something more than three months
she was nursed through the scourging malady and through the
chorea and pneumonia which are so prone to follow in distemper's
dread wake.

Science amuses itself by cutting up and otherwise torturing
helpless dogs in the unholy name of vivisection. But Science has
not yet troubled itself to discover one certain cure or
preventive for the distemper which yearly robs thousands of homes
of their loved canine pets and guards. Apparently it is
pleasanter for scientists to watch a screaming dog writhe under
the knife in a research laboratory than to trouble about finding
a way to abolish distemper; and thus of ridding the dog world of
its worst scourge.

This is a digression from our story. But perhaps it is worth your
remembering,--you who care about dogs.

Altogether, Lady was away from the Place for fifteen weeks.

And, in her absence, the unhappy Lad took upon himself the task
of turning little Wolf from a pest into something approaching a
decent canine citizen. It was no sinecure, this educating of the
hot-tempered and undisciplined youngster. But Lad brought to it