"My own old pet," says Mrs. Geoffrey, still mysteriously, and with the fondest smile imaginable.
"Good gracious, Mona, whom do you mean?" asks he, aghast both at her look and tone.
"Why, Spice, of course," opening her eyes. "Didn't you know. Why, what else could I mean?"
"I don't know, I'm sure; but really the way you expressed yourself, and——Yes, of course, Spice will be company, the very best company for you."
"I think I shall have Allspice too," goes on Mona. "But say nothing. Lady Rodney, if she knew it, would not allow it for a moment. But Jenkins" (the old butler) "has promised to manage it all for me, and to smuggle my dear dogs up to my room without any one being in the least the wiser."
"If you have Jenkins on your side you are pretty safe," says Geoffrey. "My mother is more afraid of Jenkins than you would be of a land-leaguer. Well, good-by again. I must be off."
"What horse are you taking?" asks she, holding him.
"Black Bess."
"Oh, Geoffrey, do you want to break my heart? Sure you know he is the most vicious animal in the whole stables. Take any horse but that."
"Well, if only to oblige you, I'll take Truant."