“’Pon my word,” growled Gringo, “it seems as if more human beings were beginning to find out that we’re something more than lumps of flesh.”
“Gringo,” I said, “my leg is beginning to ache. I must get home, but first I want to look in on your family.”
“Good night, dogs,” we said to the stable bunch, and we went on the way to the Bonstones’ big living-room, where everybody gathered at this time of day.
Old Mrs. Resterton sat in a corner by the fireplace, knitting and talking to an old lady friend who had her chair close beside hers. A nurse-maid was bringing in Cyria and the twins from a frolic on the lawn, and Master Carty, who had just arrived from town straight as a major, was helping his young nephew and nieces to take off their wraps.
Mrs. Bonstone had just got out of her coupé at the door. She had been calling on a neighbour, and pretty soon she came in, smiling and holding out her hands to the blaze. She greeted all her family in a loving way, and did not forget to congratulate me on my restoration to health.
“They’re all happy,” I said to Gringo, “now I must skip home.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Gringo. “We dogs have all sworn that you’re to go nowhere without an escort.”
This amused me, and I tried to toss up my head and show off a bit, as we ran out into the hall and down the avenue. I could not, and had to go soberly.
“Will you come in, Gringo?” I said when I got home.
“Certainty,” he said. “I’ll stay to dinner with you.”