The fox or badger flung itself on its side and waved a forepaw at me.
"It's hunting rabbits below on the cliffs she was," said a boy in a white flannel jacket, who was sitting on the wall.
"Oh, there you are," said Philippa's voice behind me; "I wanted to remind you to remember the aneroid. It's on the dining-room table. I'm feeling rather unhappy about that child," she went on, "I can't find him anywhere."
"I'll go in and find him," I said, with a father's ferocity.
"I hope he's there," said Philippa uncomfortably. "Good gracious! Is that Minx?"
I left the boy to explain, and made for the house, getting through the crowd in the doorway by the use of tongue and elbows, and making my way upstairs, strode hastily through the dark and repellent bedrooms of "Harrington's." Anthony was not there.
In the dining-room I heard Andrew's voice. I went in and found him sitting at the dinner-table with two ladies, one of whom was holding his hand and examining it attentively.
She had pale eyelashes, and pale golden hair, very firmly and repressively arranged; she was big and fresh and countrified looking, and her eyes were water-green. She looked like an Icelander or a Finn, but I recognised her as the second Chicken Farmer, Dr. Fraser.
"I was looking for Anthony," I said, withholding with difficulty an apology for intrusion. "We've got to get away, Andrew——"
"I was having my fortune told," said Andrew, looking foolish.