“Is that dog yours?” he inquired.
“Yes.”
“And does your father permit a beast with muddy paws to sit in his carriage?”
“Not often,” said Minkie, looking at his boots. “Dandy, you wicked imp, get out at once.”
Dan took a header into the roadway, and ran up alongside me, barking for all he was worth.
“Tell you what, Bob,” he cried, nearly choking himself with joy, “this red-headed Jew is going to find trouble. He is sure to drop into the stable to-morrow. I’ll keep you posted in affairs inside the house, and, when I give you the office, you’ll let him have both heels in the right place, eh?”
“I’ll do my best,” I coughed, and Jim wondered what was the matter, as there are no flies about in winter-time.
Meanwhile, Minkie took Schwartz in hand, and my long ears were not given me for amusement.
“We thought you were not coming until next week,” she said, by way of being polite.
“I finished some business in Paris sooner than I expected, and Mr. Grosvenor was good enough to ask me to spend Christmas and New Year at Dale End. I shall enjoy the visit immensely, I am sure. I have not had a Christmas at home for many years.”