“But, Wilfred,” said the old lady, “will our man-power stand it? Couldn't they watch each other? Or, if it would be any help, I could watch him myself. I took such a fancy to his dear dog.”
“I shall take steps,” said the nephew.
“No, don't do that. I'll go and call on the people, next door. Their name is Scarlet. They'll know about him, no doubt. We mustn't do anything inconsiderate.”
The nephew, muttering and feeling his calf, withdrew to his study. And the old lady, having put on her bonnet, set forth placidly, unaccompanied by her little white dog.
On arriving at the castle embedded in acacias and laurustinus she asked of the maid who opened:
“Can I see Mrs. Scarlet?”
“No,” replied the girl dispassionately; “she's dead.”
“Mr. Scarlet, then?”
“No,” replied the girl, “he's a major.”
“Oh, dear!” said the old lady.