4 THE GARDEN OF A 



old setter had won his name in early puppyhood 

 from his self-possession and the calm assurance, un- 

 backed by circumstances, with which he emerged 

 unscathed from fights and other embarrassing situa- 

 tions. The rapid barks that greeted me as I opened 

 the door might have been merely the joy of promised 

 companionship for the October evening ; for though 

 the logs on the study hearth were blazing finely 

 and the lamps were lit, the house seemed strangely 

 silent. 



I stretched my hands toward the fire instinctively 

 and looked about the familiar room, where the long 

 lines of shelves were never able to hold the flock of 

 books that ran riot over table and mantel-shelf, 

 crowded the inkstand on the desk, and followed their 

 owner to his lounging chair, where they perched on 

 both arms, sometimes forgetting their dignity so far 

 as to fall sprawling to the floor. I looked over my 

 shoulder, expecting every moment to hear footsteps. 

 I was still under the spell of old-world tradition. 

 Bluff drew nearer, trembling with excitement, but the 

 long, ardent sniffs and tail waggings that gradually 

 broke from the usual side-to-side motion into circular 

 sweeps might be merely inquisitive enthusiasm. 



Finally I heard a step in the hall and went to 

 meet it. A 'maid, wholly strange, handed me my 



