lie sprang out, followed by the two men with the wooden box. Five minutes later they were ushered, box and all, into the office of the president of the company. This was a dapper little man with eyeglasses and an engaging smile who got up from his chair to greet Mr. Jellie with outstretched hand in an enthusiastic welcome.
“Ah, Jellie, my boy,” said he, “what a surprise! Glad to see you again.”
The visitor returned the greeting, then turned to the two men, who had deposited the box in the middle of the floor, gave them each a five dollar bill and dismissed them.
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“THERE HE IS, BILL,” SAID MR. JELLIE, SADLY
“It’s been four years since we’ve met,” observed the president when they were alone.
“All of that,” agreed Mr. Jellie, and there followed thirty minutes of reminiscences. After which Mr. Jellie came to the point of his visit. He first asked for a hammer, and when it arrived he removed the lid of the wooden box, disclosing to the other’s astonished view the carcass of a white dog.
“There he is, Bill,” said Mr. Jellie sadly.
“But what—what is it?” gasped Bill.
“Nibbie,” replied Mr. Jellie. “My dog Nibbie. He died—he was killed Saturday on the links. I tell you what, Bill, he was an intelligent dog. He knew more about golf than I do. I want to pay proper respect to his memory. What I want to know is this, could you have the body skinned and cure the hide?”
“Why—I suppose so—”
“Then do so as a favor to me. I want the hide made as soft as possible. I want to use it for a particular purpose. I know it will be a lot of trouble, but I’ll pay well for it. You'll do it, won’t you, Bill?”
It appeared that Bill would. The details were discussed and it was decided that after being skinned Nibbie’s body should be sent to a nearby crematory.