Chapter One
Mr. Thaddeus Drybeck, stepping from the neat gravel drive leading from his house on to the road, found his further progress challenged, and, indeed, impeded, by the sudden onrush of several Pekinese dogs, who bounced and barked asthmatically about his feet. Repressing a desire to sweep them from his path with the tennis-racquet he was carrying, he used this instead to guard his ankles, for one of Mrs. Midgeholme's Pekes was known to bite.
“Shoo!” said Mr. Drybeck testily. “Get away!”
The Pekes, maddened to frenzy by this form of address, bounced and barked more than ever; and one of them made a dart at Mr. Drybeck's racquet.
“Peekies, Peekies!” trilled a new voice, in loving reproach. “Naughty! Come to Mother at once! It's only their play, Mr. Drybeck.”
Three of the Pekes, feeling that the possibilities of the situation had been exhausted, abandoned their prey; the fourth, standing foursquare before Mr. Drybeck, continued to bark and growl at him until snatched up into the arms of her owner, who dealt her a fond slap, and said: “Isn't she a pet? This is Mother's eldest little girl, aren't you, my treasure? Now, say you're sorry to poor Mr. Drybeck!”
Mr. Drybeck, perceiving that the animal was being thrust towards him, recoiled.
“Oh, you've hurt her feelings!” said Mrs. Midgeholme, kissing the top of the Peke's head. “Wouldn't he shake hands with you, Ursula? Never mind!”
The expression in Ursula's indignantly bulging eyes appeared to be one of loathing rather than of hurt, but this reflection Mr. Drybeck kept to himself, merely saying in his precise way: “I fear I am not fond of dogs.”