She wondered why the disagreeable little fellow had asked such an
indiscreet question.
Then, reluctantly, she made up her mind she had better answer it truly:
"I saw him the day before yesterday." She forced herself to go on
lightly. "I suppose you're the young gentleman to whom he sent a
puppy last year?"
He nodded, and then asked another disconcerting question: "Did you leave
your dog outside? Dolly thought you didn't like dogs, so my terrier,
Flick, has been shut up in the stable. I suppose you only like your own
dog--I'm rather like that, too."
"I haven't got a dog," she answered nervously. "It's quite true that I
don't like dogs--or, rather, I should like them if they liked me, but
they don't."
"Then the dog that was with you belonged to the old gentleman?"
"Old gentleman?" repeated Mrs. Crofton vaguely. This time she didn't in
the least know what the child was talking about, and she was relieved
when the door opened, and the Tosswill family came streaming through
it, accompanied by their step-mother.
Laughing introductions took place. Mrs. Crofton singled out instinctively
her gentle, cultivated-looking host. She told herself with a queer sense
of relief, that he was the sort of man who generally shows a distantly
chivalrous regard for women.
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