Mr. Hearty mechanically took the piece of paper the man thrust towards him. It was a cutting of an advertisement, which read:
"Dog wanted, breed not important, provided it is a large and good house-dog. Not to cost more than £4. Apply personally with animal to Alfred Hearty, 530 Fulham High Street, S.W., on Saturday at 10.30 a.m."
Mr. Hearty looked from the paper to Lily's owner in an uncomprehending way and then back to the advertisement again.
"The breed ain't important in Lily," remarked the man. "She's took prizes as a mastiff, a French poodle, a bull-terrier, and a pom., and she got hon'ble mention as a grey'ound once. She'll chaw up a man she don't like, won't yer, Lily, old gal?"
Lily looked up with a ridiculously amiable expression for a dog possessed of such qualities.
"But I don't want a dog," repeated Mr. Hearty, looking helplessly at Smith.
"Then wot the grumblin' 'ereafter do yer put in this advertisement for?" growled the man angrily.
"But I didn't."
"Is your name 'Earty?"
"I am Mr. Hearty."
"Then you want a dawg, an' Lily's your dawg, an' I want four pound. Now, 'and it over,
