"It is certainly very curious," said the daughter, submitting the features of the dog to the minutest scrutiny; "if it is not Bunty it is her absolute double."
"It is not Bunty, but Wendy," said Miss Morrison coldly; "and I shall be glad if you will give her to me."
"But——" the daughter began.
"Yes, give the lady the dog," said the mother.
In the regrettable absence of Solomon, who would, of course, have cut the little devil in two, there was nothing for it but to surrender; and the couple went off together, the dog exhibiting every sign of pleasure.
Meanwhile the daughter whipped up the pony, and we soon entered the gates.
In the drive, awaiting us, was a West Highland terrier named Bunty.
"There!" cried the ladies, as they scrambled out and flung themselves on her.
"Of course she's not a bit like that Wendy thing really," said the mother.
"Now that I come to look at her I can see heaps of difference," said the daughter.