"Oh, no, I don't think so. You merely had your way again, that was all. I was always against offering a reward. And the word 'handsome' too. In any case I never agreed to that. You put that in later. Another thing," Mrs. Bathurst continued, "I knew it in some curious way—in my bones, as they say—that the fineness of Cherub's nature, its innocence, its radiant friendliness, would overcome any sordidness in the person who found him, poor darling, all lost and unhappy. No one who has been much with that simple sweet character could fail to be the better for it."
Mr. Bathurst coughed.
"That is so?" his wife persisted.
"Well," said Mr. Bathurst, after helping himself to another egg, "let us hope so, at any rate."
"It's gone beyond mere hope," said his wife triumphantly. "Listen to this;" and she read out the sentence from the second advertisement, "'No reward required.' There," she added, "isn't that proof? I'll go round to Cheviot Road directly after breakfast and say how grateful we are, and bring the darling back."
III.
Meanwhile at "The Limes" Mr. Hartley Friend was pacing the room with impatient steps.
"I do wish you would try to be less impulsive," he was saying to his wife. "Anything in the nature of business you would be so much wiser to leave to me."
"What is it now?" Mrs. Friend asked with perfect placidity.
"This dog," said her husband, "that fastened itself on you in this deplorable way—whatever possessed you to rush into print about it?"