As they came up towards the back of the house, they met Alvar, who, rather hastily, asked if they had seen Cheriton.
“He went to take a walk. I am afraid he will be tired,” he explained.
“Eh, Alvar, you’re too fidgety,” said his father good-humouredly. “There’s Cheriton, looking at the puppies.”
Alvar looked, and beheld a group gathered in the doorway of a great barn, the figures standing out clear in the sunshine against the dark shadow behind. Nettie was standing in the centre with her arms apparently full of whining little puppies; the mother, a handsome retriever, was yelping and whining near. Buffer was barking and dancing in a state of frantic jealousy beside her. Bob and Jack were disputing over the merits of the puppies. Dick Seyton, with a cigar in his mouth, was leaning lazily against the barn door, while Cheriton, looking, to Alvar’s anxious eyes, startlingly pale, was standing near.
“But say, Cherry, say,” urged Nettie, “which of them are to be kept? Don’t you think this is the best of all?”
“That,” interrupted Bob, “that one will never be worth anything. Look, Cherry, this one’s head—”
“Bob, what are you about here at this time in the morning?” said his father. “I told you I must have some work done these holidays. Be off with you at once.”
“Cherry said yesterday he would come and help me,” growled Bob.
“I want him,” said Mr Lester. “Got a piece of news for you, Cherry. No secret, Rupert, I suppose?”
“I’ll tell Cherry presently,” said Rupert, thinking the audience large and embarrassing.