‘Yes, yes, fine fellow,’ responded Kay. ‘Come on, good dog, good dog!’
He patted the dog awkwardly.
‘We call him Bernard,’ explained Sheila, afraid of the smallest hiatus. ‘George Bernard, because he’s Irish and vivacious.’
Kay looked puzzled. ‘But why ... do you call him George Bernard? I didn’t quite catch....’
‘After Shaw, you know,’ Sheila explained. ‘We suspect Bernard of having been a distinguished playwright in a previous incarnation.’
‘Oh I see!’ said Kay, his brow clearing.
But it was knitted again the next moment.
‘What was it the Reverend Aitken was saying about Shaw last Sunday, mother?’
‘I remember something,’ Sophie answered. ‘I think he said he was a mountaineer, didn’t he?’
‘Mountaineer,’ murmured Kay. ‘I think not. Ah no, mountebank! That was the word.’