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 they were chatting together over some wine and cakes.

Madame had just finished telling the general of Pierre, of his War Cross and his latest escapade in America, when Pierre himself trotted in from the stage where he had been romping with the stage hands.

The general looked at the Airedale admiringly as he came and stood upon his hind legs and laid his head in Madame's lap, ready for his usual complement of caresses.

"Yes," said the great man after a silence, during which he watched the actress curiously. "He is a fine dog. The handsomest Airedale I ever saw. But it is a pity that so good a soldier is not again fighting. We have great need of such dogs in the Argonne on the ammunition-carts. Much of the country is too rough