“I am exceedingly sorry. I was unaware that there was any—ah—estrangement between you and Warrenby.”
“No, well, it only happened yesterday. Not but that I never have liked the man, and between you and me and the gatepost his behaviour to Lion during the War, when Lion was absolutely running the Home Guard, finished him for me! But that he could be cruel to dumb animals I did not suspect.”
“Dear, dear!” said Mr. Drybeck. “One of your dogs?”
“Ulysses!” said Mrs. Midgeholme. “Ulysses! I popped in to speak to that unfortunate niece of Mr. Warrenby's about the Conservative Whist Drive, and took the dear old fellow with me. That brutal man kicked him!”
“Good gracious!” said Mr. Drybeck. “You don't mean it?”
“I do mean it. He actually boasted of it! Had the effrontery to tell me, when I demanded to know why my angel had yelped, and come limping into the house, that he had kicked him off one of the flowerbeds. I fairly exploded!”
Mr. Drybeck could believe it. The mere recollection of the outrage caused Mrs. Midgeholme's ample bosom to swell, and her rather florid complexion to assume an alarmingly high colour. He made soothing noises.
“I should have said a great deal more than I did if I hadn't been sorry for poor little Mavis!” declared Mrs. Midgeholme. “It wasn't her fault; though, if you were to ask me, I should say that she's a perfect fool not to put her foot down! However, if she likes to make a doormat of herself it's no concern of mine. But when it comes to ill-treating one of my Peekies it's a very different matter! Not one word will I speak to him until he's apologised, and so I told him. And if I were to go to The Cedars and find him there I should tell him exactly what I think of him, which would make things uncomfortable for Mrs. Haswell. So I'm not going.” She gave Ursula a hitch, tucking her more securely under her arm, and added: “What's more, it will serve him right if Mavis runs off with that Pole—not that I think she would, and I hope very much she won't do anything silly, because he hasn't got any prospects that I know of, besides being a foreigner. But there it is!”
“Pole?” repeated Mr. Drybeck blankly.
“Oh, don't you know him? He works at Bebside's, and lives in one of the row of cottages beyond you,” said Mrs. Midgeholme. “At least, he lodges there. Old Mrs. Dockray,” she added, for his further enlightenment.