“Such a hard-hearted brute is Ronnie,” he thought. “Only lives for himself and don’t spend sixpence a day. I do hate selfishness and stinginess.”
The Blenheims at this instant scampered into the room, and flew at his ankles with that strong disapproval of him which they never failed to show.
“Oh Lord, you little beasts!” he cried, as their shrill voices rent the air.
Hurstmanceaux looked on in grim approval of the dogs’ discrimination, whilst his brother-in-law wasted kicks in all directions, the Blenheims avoiding them with the happiest dexterity and returning undaunted to the charge.
The entrance of their mistress effected a diversion in the warfare and relaxed the contemptuous sternness of her brother’s face.
“So kind of you, dear Ronnie,” she said sweetly as she came up to him softly and brought a sense of fragrance and freshness, like a dewy rose, as she came straight from her bath and its opponax soap and eau de verveine.
“They’ve torn my trowsers,” said Cocky, looking down at the marks of their small sharp teeth upon frayed cloth.
“You know they dislike you,” said his wife coldly. “Why do you provoke them?”
“Hang it all, I’m their master,” murmured Cocky, eyeing his ankles ruefully.
“Oh, dear no, you are not,” said Mouse very uncivilly; “I never taught them to think so for a moment.”