“I’m so glad you’re staying for dinner. I shouldn’t like to think you were running away from him.”
“I was only afraid of losing my temper and making a scene,” replied Doggie with dignity.
“His manners are odious,” said Peggy. “You leave him to me.”
Suddenly the Dean, taking a turn that brought him into view of the porch, stopped short.
“Goodness gracious!” he cried. “Who in the world is that?”
He pointed to a curious object slouching across the lawn; a short hirsute man wearing a sailor’s jersey and smoking a stump of a blackened pipe. His tousled head was bare; he had very long arms and great powerful hands protruded at the end of long sinewy wrists from inadequate sleeves. A pair of bright eyes shone out of his dark shaggy face, like a Dandy Dinmont’s. His nose was large and red. He rolled as he walked. Such a sight had never been seen before in the Deanery garden.
“That’s my man. Peggy’s valet,” said Oliver airily. “His name is Chipmunk. A beauty, isn’t he?”
“Like master, like man,” murmured Doggie.
Oliver’s quick ears caught the words intended only for Peggy. He smiled brightly.
“If you knew what a compliment you were paying me, Doggie, you wouldn’t have said such a thing.”