As I spoke, Berry emerged from the library with a cigarette in his mouth.

“My milk-white skin,” he said, “has been defaced.  My beautiful trunk has been lacerated as with jagged nails.  You know, I tremble for that dog’s soul.  It mayn’t be his fault, but it’s invariably my misfortune.”  He turned to my sister.  “You heard about Walter Thomas?  Good.  And now I shall slip on some iodine and underclothes and come down as I am.”

“Jonah says we must leave at eleven,” said Daphne.  “For goodness’ sake, don’t be late.”

“My wedding garments are prepared and but await my entry.  The sponge-bag trousers are unrolled, the elastic-sided boots untreed, the made-up tie dusted.  Of course, we’re taking Nobby?”

I looked up from my charge, who was by this time fairly dry and as full of beans as an egg is of meat.

“Of course.”

“Of course.  You never know.  I might get run over.  That’d give him an opening.”

“Here,” said I, “is your towel.  He’s all right now.”

Carefully Berry fingered the fabric.

“He was wet, wasn’t he?” he said.  “Yes.  I suppose I can dry myself on the curtains.  I wonder which of us he would bite if I were to assault you.”  He hung the towel over his arm, picked up the terrier and looked into his eyes.  “You wicked scrap!  Why, he’s not nearly dry yet.”  Nobby licked his face.  “Come along up with uncle, and we’ll share the bath-mat.”

The two disappeared up the staircase, wrangling amicably regarding my brother-in-law’s right to pull the terrier’s whiskers.

“You won’t forget to write, will you?” said Daphne, as we returned to the dining-room.

“I promise,” said I.  “You shall see the letter.”

Trooper Dale, W., had been in my squadron in the field, and for three weeks he had taken my first servant’s place.  Incidentally he had also taken two pounds ten shillings in notes, which I frankly admit I had no business to have left in my pocket.  Taxed with the theft, he had broken down and told me a piteous tale.

A delicate wife and a little boy with curvature of the spine needed every honest halfpenny that could be turned—­and more also.  Between a chauffeur’s wages and his Army pay there was fixed a great gulf, and—­well, it was hard to know that the child was suffering for want of nourishment.

I caused inquiries to be made.  A convenient aunt investigated the case and found it genuine.  Between us we did what we could.  Then, on her return from Egypt, my sister visited the family and reported that they would be most thankful if the child could be admitted to a first-class home.  With the Waddell Institute Berry had Influence, and at last a coveted vacancy had been obtained....

Before we left for Monk’s Honour I composed a suitable letter to the ex-trooper, telling him that his little boy could soon be received into an institution, from which there was every reason to believe that he would eventually emerge comparatively restored to health.