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A CALL

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IT was once said of Mr. Robert Grimshaw: “That chap is like aseal”—and the simile was a singularly just one. He was like a sealwho is thrusting his head and shoulders out of the water, and, withlarge, dark eyes and sensitive nostrils, is on the watch. All thatcould be known of him seemed to be known; all that could be known ofthe rest of the world he moved in he seemed to know. He carried aboutwith him usually, in a crook of his arm, a polished, light browndachshund that had very large feet, and eyes as large, as brown, andas luminous, as those of his master. Upon the occasion of PaulineLucas’s marriage to Dudley Leicester the dog was not upon his arm, buthe carried it into the drawing-rooms of the many ladies who welcomedhim to afternoon tea. Apparently it had no attractions save its clearand beautiful colour, its excellent if very grotesque shape, and itscomplete docility. He called upon a lady at tea-time, and, with thesame motion that let him down into his chair, he would set the dogupon the floor between his legs. There it would remain, as motionlessand as erect as a fire-dog, until it was offered a piece of butteredtea-cake, which it would accept, or until its master gave it a minuteand hardly audible permission to rove about. Then it would rove. Thegrotesque, large-little feet paddled set wide upon the carpet, the longears flapped to the ground. But, above all, the pointed and sensitivenose would investigate with a minute attention, but with an infinitegentleness, every object within its reach in the room, from the line ofthe skirting-board to the legs of the piano and the flounced skirts ofthe ladies sitting near the tea-tables. Robert Grimshaw would observethese inves

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