_... It nearly breaks my heart to say so, but I've got to part with
Nobby. I'm going to India to join Richard, you know, and I'm sailing
next week. I think you'd get on together. He's a one-man dog and a bit
queer-tempered with strangers--all Sealyhams are. But he's a good little
chap--very sporting, very healthy, and a real beauty. Let me know one
way or the other, and, if you'd like to have him, I'll send him round
with his licence and pedigree._
_Yours very sincerely,_
_JOSEPHINE CHILDE._
_P.S.--He's always slept on my bed._
The letter had been forwarded to me from London, for I was spending the
week-end in Leicestershire with the Scarlets.
I looked across the flagged hall to my host, who was leaning against a
table with a hunting horn in each hand, listening critically to the
noise he was making, and endeavouring to decide upon which of the two
instruments he could wind the most inspiring call.
"Live and let live," said I. With a grin Bertram suspended his
operations. "Listen. I've been offered a Sealyham."
"Take him," was the reply. "Your guests will regret it, but you won't.
They're high-spirited and they're always full of beans. Hard as nails,
too," he added. "You'll never kill him.
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