"Nothing to speak of," said Adele. "Used he to?"

"Like the devil," said Berry. "The vibration was fearful. We had to have his room underpinned."

"Oh, he's quite all right now," said my wife. "Indeed, as husbands go, he's--he's very charming."

"You don't mean to say you still love him?"

"I--I believe I do."

"Oh, the girl's ill," said Berry. "Put your head between your knees, dear, and think of a bullock trying to pa.s.s through a turnstile. And why 'as husbands go'? As a distinguished consort, I must protest against that irreverent expression."

"Listen," said Adele, laughing. "All women adore ceremonious attention--even Americans. The ceremonious attentions of the man they love are the sweetest of all. It's the tragedy of every happy marriage that, when comradeship comes in at the door, ceremony flies out of the window. Now, my husband's my king. Once he was my courtier. I wouldn't go back for twenty million worlds, but--I've got a smile for the old days."

"I know," said Berry softly. "I know. Years ago Daphne told me the same. And I tried and tried.... But it wouldn't work somehow. She was very sweet about it, and very wise. 'Ceremony,' she said, 'gets as far as the finger-tips.' I vowed I'd carry it further, but she only smiled.... We retired there and then, ceremoniously enough, to dress for dinner. I'd bathed and changed and got as far as my collar, when the stud fell down my back. I pinched it between my shoulder-blades.

At that moment she came to the door to see if I was ready...." He spread out expressive hands. "They talk about the step from the sublime to the ridiculous. We didn't use any stairs; we went down in the lift. After that I gave up trying. A sense of humour, however, has pulled us through, and now we revile one another."

"And so, you see," said Adele, slipping an arm through mine, "Piers has wares to offer me which you haven't. The shame of it is, he won't offer them. Still, he's very nice. The way in which he solemnly takes us all for granted is most attractive. He's as natural as a baby a year old. He just bows very courteously and then joins in the game.

The moment it's over, he makes his bow and retires. We call him Piers: he calls us by our Christian names--and we haven't known him a week.

It's not self-confidence; it's just pure innocence."

"I confess it's remarkable," said I. "And I don't wonder you like him.

All the same, I'm sorry----"

"There!" cried Adele suddenly, pointing across the lawn. "Boy, he's gone in again."

I reached the edge of the ornamental water in time to observe the Sealyham emerge upon the opposite bank.

"You naughty dog," said I. "You naughty, wicked dog." n.o.bby shook himself gleefully. "No, don't come across. Go round the other way.

Go back!"

The dog hesitated, and, by way of turning the scale, I threw my stick for him to retrieve. As this left my hand, the hook caught in my cuff, and the cane fell into mid-stream....

As n.o.bby climbed out with the stick, the park-keeper arrived--a crabbed gentleman, in a long blue cloak and the deuce of a stew.

The swans, he said, would be frightened. (There was one swan, three hundred yards away.) Always they were being pursued by bold dogs.

_Mon Dieu_, but it was shameful. That hounds should march unled in the Parc Beaumont was forbidden--absolutely. Not for them to uproot were the trees and flowers planted. Where, then, was my attachment? And I had encouraged my dog. Actually I had made sport for him. He had seen the deed with his eyes....

One paw raised, ears p.r.i.c.ked, his little head on one side, his small frame quivering with excitement, his bright brown eyes alight with expectation, a dripping n.o.bby regarded us....

I took a note from my pocket.

"He is a wicked dog," I said. "There. He pays his fine. As for me, I shall be punished enough. My home is distant, and I was to have driven. Now he is wet and must grow dry, so I must walk. I will think out his punishment as I go." And, with that, I hooked my cane to the delinquent's collar and turned away.

"_Pardon, Monsieur._" The old fellow came shambling after us.

"_Pardon_, but do not punish him, I pray you." n.o.bby screwed round his head and looked at him. "Oh, but how handsome he is! Perhaps he did not understand. And I should be sorry to think ..." n.o.bby started towards him and moved his tail. "See how he understands. He has the eyes of a dove." He stooped to caress his _protege_. "Ah, but you are cold, my beauty. Unleash him, _Monsieur_, I pray you, that he may warm himself. I shall not notice him." As I did his bidding, and n.o.bby capered away, "_Bon,_" he said pleasedly. "_Bon. Au revoir, mon beau._" He straightened his bowed shoulders and touched his hat. "_A votre service, Monsieur._"

I returned thoughtfully to where Adele and Berry were sitting, watching us closely and pretending that we did not belong to them. So far as personal magnetism was concerned, between n.o.bby and the Duke of Padua there seemed to be little to choose. To judge by results, the two were equally irresistible. In the race for the Popularity Stakes the rest of the males of our party were simply nowhere.

With a sigh, a blue coupe slid past me and then slowed down. The grey two-seater behind it did the same. When I say that Daphne, who loathes mechanics, was seated in the latter conveyance, submitting zealously to an oral examination by Piers regarding the particular functions of the various controls, it will be seen that my recent conclusions were well founded.

"Letters," said Jill, getting out of the coupe. "One for Berry and two for Adele." She distributed them accordingly. "Fitch brought them up on his bicycle. And Piers' aunt is coming--the one whose villa he's at. I forgot her name, but he says she's awfully nice."

"Splendid," said I. "And now congratulate me. Having tramped the town all the morning, I've got to walk home."

"Why?"

I pointed to n.o.bby.

"That he may warm himself," I said.

My cousin gave a horrified cry.

"Oh, Boy! And we only washed him last night."

"I'll take him," cried Piers. "I'd like to. And you can drive Daphne back."

I shook my head, laughing.

"It's his master's privilege," I said. "Besides, he's had his scolding, and if I deserted him he'd be hurt. And he's really a good little chap."

"But----"

"My dear Piers," said Daphne, laying a hand on his arm, "rather than risk hurting that white sc.r.a.p's feelings, my brother would walk to Lyons."

"You will all," said Berry, "be diverted to learn that I am faced with the positively filthy prospect of repairing to London forthwith. After spending a quarter of an hour in an overheated office in New Square, Lincoln's Inn, in the course of which I shall make two affidavits which n.o.body will ever read, I shall be at liberty to return. Give me the Laws of England."

"Never mind, old chap," said Daphne. "We'll soon be back again. I shall go with you, of course. Ought we to start to-night?"

Considering that there was snow in London, that the visit would entail almost continuous travelling for nearly thirty hours each way, and that my sister cannot sleep in a train, it seemed as if Berry, at any rate, was pulling out of the ruck.

"My sweet," replied my brother-in-law, "I won't hear of it. However, we'll argue it out in private. Yes, I must start to-night."

"You must go?" said Jonah softly.

"Can't get out of it."

"Right." My cousin leaned out of the car. "I'll give you my tobacconist's address. The best way will be to have the stuff decanted and sewn in your coat."

There was a pregnant silence.

Then--

"Saved!" I cried exultantly. "Saved!"

"What d'you mean--'Saved'?" said Berry.

"Hush," said I, looking round. "Not an 'h' mute! This summons of yours is a G.o.dsend. With a little ingenuity, you can bring enough contraband in to last us till May."