She looked at him so pleadingly that he could not find it in his heart to say no. She brightened up at his consent, and asked for a cab, in which to take home her injured darling, and then laid a sovereign and a shilling on the table.
"I don't think I am entitled to charge for attending the dog," said Harold, crimsoning. "Certainly, this is far too much."
"Watson, the veterinary surgeon, never would have charged a guinea," indignantly added Miss Pepper; but Miss Geare was resolute, and when she had departed, it was certainly pleasant to see the gold piece on the table, sovereigns being sadly scarce with him, poor fellow!
He instituted inquiries, and learnt that Miss Geare belonged to a good family, and was well-off, but somewhat "queer." In early youth she was engaged to an officer, who was killed at Delhi, and had become gradually more and more eccentric, until now she only lived for her dogs and cats. Miss Pepper, it was added, tyrannised over her shamefully, as though she were the mistress and Miss Geare the companion.
The old lady was warm-hearted, though rather fickle, and, having taken a fancy to Harold, contrived to secure him several fresh and welcome patients. Miss Geare herself was far from strong, and afforded a legitimate exercise for Harold's skill, which salved his conscience in the matter of Bijou. But Miss Pepper remained, from first to last, distinctly hostile.
[END OF CHAPTER SIX.]