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 mistress, all sympathy and concern for the starving guest.

"It's probably raw eggs," the man said. "They always help a dog's coat, but only kings and millionaires can afford to feed them."

At the word "egg," the Airedale cocked his ears and looked up at the author sharply.

"Is it eggs?" inquired the man.

Pierre barked gladly.

"I do really believe he is asking for eggs," said the sympathetic lady.

"You might try him on one," suggested the man. "They are only eighty cents a dozen."

The mistress hurried into the pantry closely followed by her new friend, that seemed perfectly to understand being the subject of their conversation.