The others nodded.
“Unless I find him to-day,” announced the girl definitely, “I shall have to continue my journey.”
They made way for Mrs. Marchant. That lady gave up her broom to gain more freedom in argument, and stepped forward.
“My dear,” she said, in a motherly way, “I’m a tidy bit older than what you are, and it stands to reason I know more of the world. People come from far and wide to get my advice, they do, and none can’t ever complain that I sent ’em empty away.”
The rest gave a murmur that sounded like confirmation.
“Moreover, you’re only a Londoner, and that sort of hampers you. My experience, my dear, tells me that it don’t do to expect everything to ’appen all at once. Your dog—or rather the dog belonging to a gentleman military friend that you was taking charge of—slips his collar three days ago, whilst your train was stoppin’ at the station, and makes off. You, being tur’bly upset, you gives up your journey, and you offers ten shillin’ reeward. On my suggestion, you next day makes it two pound. Still acting on my racommendation, you, the foll’ing day, increases it to five.”
“That is more than I can really afford.”
“Never you mind ’bout that,” said the other, with a touch of impatience. “I’m only tellin’ you what happened. I’m a business woman, and I like to have everything straightfor’ard, and above board. I know all that occurs in Hayford, and if you leave yourself in my hands, you won’t go fur wrong. Your dog’s been seen, and that ought to be enough for you, to go on with.”
“If he could only catch sight of me, he’d come directly. Fuzzy is as fond of me as he is of his master.”
“But not near so fond, miss, I lay a pint,” interposed Sprules, with a wink to the others, “as what his master is of you.”