Who are far wiser in their way and far better in every way, than I; andyet who have not the wisdom to know it
Who do not merely think I am perfect, but who are calmly andpermanently convinced of my perfection;—and this in spite of fiftydisillusions a day
Who are frantically happy at my coming and bitterly woebegone in myabsence
Who never bore me and never are bored by me
Who never talk about themselves and who always listen with rapturousinterest to anything I may say
Who, having no conventional standards, have no respectability; and who,having no conventional consciences, have no sins
Who teach me finer lessons in loyalty, in patience, in true courtesy,in unselfishness, in divine forgiveness, in pluck and in abiding goodspirits than do all the books I have ever read and all the other modelsI have studied
Who have not deigned to waste time and eyesight in reading a word ofmine and who will not bother to read this verbose tribute to themselves
In short, to the most gloriously satisfactory chums who ever appealedto human vanity and to human desire for companionship
TO OUR TEN SUNNYBANK COLLIES MY STORY IS GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELYDEDICATED
| I. | The Coming Of Bruce |
| II. | The Pest |
| III. | The War Dog |
| IV. | When Eyes Were No Use |
| V. | The Double Cross |
| VI. | The Werewolf |
She was beautiful. And she had a heart and a soul—which were a curse.For without such a heart and soul, she might have found the toughlife-battle less bitterly hard to fight.
But the world does queer things—damnable things—to hear