“Oh, he’s gone,” she said anxiously to her husband. “I left him so comfortable on the sofa, and told him to try to sleep. Sleep is so important when you’re ill. And now he’s gone—he’ll probably stay away till bedtime!”
“All right,” said her husband sardonically. “Be thankful for small mercies.”
Ethel and her esquire returned to tea, and, yielding to the entreaties of the family, who looked upon him as William’s saviour, he stayed to dinner. He spent the evening playing inadequate accompaniments to Ethel’s songs and ejaculating at intervals rapturous expressions of delight. It was evident that Ethel was flattered by his obvious admiration. He stayed till nearly eleven, and then, almost drunk with happiness, he took his leave while the family again thanked him profusely.
As he walked down the drive with a smile on his lips and his mind flitting among the blissful memories of the evening, an upper window was opened cautiously and a small head peeped out. Through the still air the words shot out——
“Two, mind, an’ with long tails.”
II
“Where did you get it from?” demanded Mr. Brown fiercely.
William pocketed his straying pet.
“A friend gave it me.”
“What friend?”