th' Yarkshire tarrier'll have to be settled once an' for all. Yon election hinged on it."

"I'm afraid I've forgotten the details, William," I confessed lamely.

"You'll surely remember th' little Yarkshire tarrier as strayed into th' village in the summer o' '14," said William. "Hosea claimed it as his'n by right of hollering it first, but George rackened him givin' it a bit o' bacon-rind from 'is lunch med 'im th' rightful owner. It stayed a few days wi' Hosea, then George 'ticed it away, an' generally it hung to the one as happened to have th' biggest bone. Feeling ran high atween them till, after the harvest 'ad bin got in, Mr. Gedge, at The Chequers, axed George what about j'ining up.

"'What, an' give Hosea a free run wi' th' tarrier?' said George. 'Not blessed likely.'

"Hosea for his part said 'e weren't going to budge while th' village were infested wi' dog-stealers; so Mr. Gedge 'e says, 'Hand th' dog to me. I'll howd it wi'out fear nor favour, an' when you both cooms back we'll have it properly arbitrated on.'

"So Hosea j'ined the Infantry an' George went into th' Yeomanry. There was some friction when George first coom on leave an' Mr. Gedge let 'im have th' tarrier for a day's ratting. Th' Bennett family said it were breaking the agreement, but Mr. Gedge said it were a patriotic duty to give th' lads a bit of amusement when they came on leave, an' 'e 'd undertake the Rileys 'ud make no objection when Hosea coom home. But it made a lot 'o coolness atween th' families, an' when Hosea were wounded in '15 the Bennettses as good as said th' Rileys weren't no better nor pro-Germans in not giving up their claim to th' tarrier. Public opinion were with Hosea at that time, but it veered round to George when 'e won th' Military Medal in '16.

"However, George got orders to go East in '17, an' Hosea had pretty frequent leaves and were allus parading th' dog outside the Rileys' cottage. About the end o' '18 owd Ephraim Riley got tired of it and went to see Mr. Gedge on th' subject.

"'Fair's fair,' he says, 'an' Hosea ain't no right to be worming 'is way into that dog's affections while George can't get home.'

"'There's summat in that,' said Mr. Gedge; an' next time Hosea cooms home 'e finds the dog in pound, so to speak.

"'Very good,' says he; 'I don't coom home again till George is here.'

"In th' spring of '19, 'bout the time as the tarrier—which was getting owd and cantankerous—bit Wilfred Browitt in th' leg, we heerd that George weren't likely to be back for a longish time, an' Hosea wrote to say in that case he'd take on in th' Army for another year. Then we had mower excitement, for it was said that Winch, a new-comer, had put up for th' Council, an' it 'ud mean an election. Fowks were so used to Farmer Pyke an' Mr. Gedge and Mr. Cluttrel setting that they rackened they didn't need to be voted on, but would go in automatic. However, there were a meetin' in th' parish-room, an' when Chairman axed if anyone 'ad any questions Wilfred Browitt got up an' said:

"'Who owns tarrier, Hosea Bennett or George Riley?'

"It were well known that Wilfred were a mean-sperrited crittur as only wanted to know from which one 'e 'd be likely to get compensation for th' bite on his leg. So Mr. Gedge 'e rose an' answered:—

"'It's well known Mr. Pyke nor Mr. Cluttrel nor self can't say anything on the matter, as it is sub-judish till th' lads coom home.'

"'What do you say, Mr. Winch?' persisted Wilfred.

"'I declare for George Riley,' said Winch boldly, 'him being the first to give it sustenance.'

"There were a great sensation at that, an' it showed the cunningness o' Winch. He knew the Rileys were intermarried wi' half th' village and all George's relations 'ud be bound to vote for 'im after he'd declared for them. And so it proved, for, though th' Bennettses rallied everyone they could for th' Coalitioners, they weren't strong enough, an Winch got in in place o' Mr. Cluttrel."

"Still," I remarked, "the question of ownership isn't settled."

"No, that'll be settled Saturday fortnit. It'll be a rare set-back for Winch if the verdict goes to Hosea."

"But in any case the terrier is sure of a good home," I said.

"Well, as to that," replied William, "it were the principle o' the thing that were at stake. When th' tarrier bit Wilfred Browitt in '19 he chased it out of th' village wi' his stick, an' nobody ain't seen it since."

Host (to guest, who is helping him to make a pergola). "Don't lean on it, you silly ass! You'll have it down."

Our Modest Advertisers.

"To be Let.—Charming Little Gentleman's Pleasure Farm."—Field.

"A Northampton Corporation report states that contractor's workmen have applied for permission to work longer hours."

Daily Chronicle.

We understand that the Labour Party will at once order the Ministry of Health to take steps to isolate these cases, and that there is little danger of a spread of the epidemic.

A PRISCILLA DIALOGUE.

There is probably some way by which a young female child can be led through easy stages of Socratic dialogue to the idea of ultimate truth in morals as well as art. There is probably some way of talking to such a child without being badly scored off. But I do not seem to have the gift. This is the more unfortunate because the thing usually happens before I have finished my breakfast, and nothing is quite so damaging to my self-esteem as to be soundly snubbed in my own house before the day's work has begun.

Mind you I do not honestly believe that my logic is at fault. I believe that there is usually a flaw in the reasoning of the child. But you cannot very well say to an infant of three, "You are now being guilty of an undistributed middle or a petitio elenchi or whatever it is." She would do what I have heard even older women do in like circumstances. She would change the subject at once. Perhaps the Montessori system ... But let us take a typical case.

I found her sitting at a large table by the dining-room window, in a high chair that left her red shoes eighteen inches from the ground, a complete doll's tea service in front of her and a small stuffed lamb on her right-hand side. The tea-pot appeared to contain real water and the sugar-basin real sugar, and although she was supremely busy watering and sugaring and rearranging her cups and jugs and spoons she greeted me with the composure of an experienced châtelaine. Our conversation went something like this:—

She. Will you have any cup of tea?

I (having drunk a small cup of water with a very little real sugar and a large quantity of real grit in it.) Thank you. How delicious! But I must go and have my breakfast now.

She (taking no notice at all and offering me a small fragment of moist toast). Will you have any piece of cake?

I. Thank you. What lovely plum-cake!

She (with infinite scorn). Ho! that isn't plum-cake. There isn't any plums in it. It's choclat cake.

I (humiliated). Oh, well, I don't think I will have any more tea, thank you.

She (coldly). I'm going to give my lamb tea now.

[The method of giving tea to a lamb, in case it is not generally known, is to