"You'll never guess," he said. "Look!" and he dropped at my feet a
chick just out of the egg.

I smacked his head and took him into the cottage to explain.

"My dog," I said, "has eaten one of your chickens."

Chum nudged me in the ankle and grinned.

"TWO of your chickens," I corrected myself, looking at the fresh
evidence which he had just brought to light.

"You don't want me any more?" said Chum, as the financial
arrangements proceeded. "Then I'll just go and find somewhere for
these two." And he picked them up and trotted into the sun.

When I came out I was greeted effusively.

"This is a wonderful day," he panted, as he wriggled his body. "I
didn't know the country was like this. What do we do now?"

"We go home," I said, and we went.

That was Chum's last day of freedom. He keeps inside the front gate
now. But he is still a happy dog; there is plenty doing in the
garden. There are beds to walk over, there are blackbirds in the
apple tree to bark at. The world is still full of wonderful things.
"Why, only last Wednesday," he will tell you, "the fishmonger left
his basket in the drive. There was a haddock in it, if you'll
believe me, for master's breakfast, so of course I saved it for him.