Missis then turned round and faced the other way. But now you are on the side of the paw with the spot,€ she said worriedly, so my right paw has turned into my left.€

The Spaniel gave it up. I will show you the haystack,€ he said, and led her out through what once must have been a fine kitchen-garden but was now a mass of weeds. Beyond it were the fields. Missis could just see the thatched cottages and the haystack.

It’s the only haystack,€ said the Spaniel. All the same, keep your eyes on it all the time you run. I would come with you, but my rheumatism prevents me and Sir Charles will need me to carry his spectacle-case downstairs. We are an old, old couple, my dear. He is ninety, and I according to a foolish human reckoning that one year of a dog’s life represents seven years of human life I am a hundred and five.

I should never have guessed it,€ said Missis politely and truthfully.

Anyway, I’m still young enough to know a pretty dog when I see one,€ said the Spaniel gallantly. Now off you go for your husband. You’ll have no difficulty in finding your way back because you will see our chimneys from the haystack.€

Right or left?€ asked Missis brightly.

In front of your delightful nose. If I’m not here, just take your husband into the kitchen and I’ll join you as soon as I can.€

Missis raced off happily across the frosty fields, never taking her eyes off the haystack and feeling very proud when she reached it without getting lost. Pongo was still heavily asleep, with the bread and butter by his nose.

Poor Pongo! Waking up was awful, what with his sleepiness, the pain in his leg, and his horror at learning Missis had been dashing about the countryside alone. But he felt better when she had told him the news, which she did while he ate the bread and butter. And though his leg hurt, he found he could run without limping.

Which way do we go?€ he asked as they came out of the haystack.

Missis looked worried. There were no chimneys ahead of her nose because she was facing in exactly the opposite direction. But Pongo saw the chimneys and took her towards them. Just before they reached the kitchen-garden, Missis said, Pongo, do dogs have spots on their right paws or on their left paws?

That depends on the dog,€ said Pongo.

Missis shook her head. It’s hopeless,€ she thought. How can I depend on a thing that depends?€

The Spaniel was waiting for them.

I’ve settled Sir Charles by the fire,€ he said, so I’ve an hour or so to spare. Come to breakfast, my dear fellow.€

He led Pongo to the kitchen, where there was now another plate of food.

Surely it’s your breakfast, sir,€ said Pongo.