"Of course I can truthfully tell him that, at times, she is very tractable and obedient."
"AT TIMES! About two minutes a week! When Jerry's around. How on earth he puts up with her I can't understand. She follows him about like a little dog. Listens to him. Behaves herself. But the moment he's gone—Poof! back she goes to her old tricks. I tell you she's a freak!" and Alaric dismissed the matter, and sat back fanning himself.
"Can I tell Mr. Hawkes that?" asked Mrs. Chichester.
"No," replied Alaric. "But I WOULD say that the thousand a year is very hardly earned. Nat ought to have made it ten thousand. Dirt cheap at THAT. Tell him that out of respect for the dead man's wishes, we shall continue the job and that on the whole we have HOPES. SLIGHT—BUT—HOPES!"
In through the open windows came the sound of dogs barking furiously. Ethel sprang up crying:
"'Pet!'" and hurried out into the garden.
Mrs. Chichester and Alaric went to the windows and looked out.
"Margaret!" cried Mrs. Chichester.
"And the mongrel! She's urgin' him on. The terrier's got 'Pet' now." Alaric called out to the little poodle: "Fight him, old girl! Maul him! Woa there! 'Pet's' down. There is Ethel on the scene," he cried as Ethel ran across the lawn and picked up the badly treated poodle.
"Go and separate them," urged Mrs. Chichester.