Piffles was a splendid pink Circassian--perfect in colour and shape,
with glorious topaz eyes. But the extraordinary thing about him was a
gift that he had for changing his colour. Thus my uncle, an old
Anglo-Indian who always drank a bottle of Madeira after dinner, declared
that from 10 P.M. onwards Piffles invariably seemed to him to be a
bright crimson with green spots. Another peculiarity of Piffles was that
he always followed the guns out shooting, and used to retrieve birds
from the most difficult places. He practically ruled the household, took
the boys back to school after the holidays, attended family prayers, and
was learning to play the pianola when he was unfortunately killed by a
crocodile which escaped from a travelling menagerie.
(MISS) IVY WAGG.
_The Oaks, Long Boughton._