"it's--why, it's blight from the
rose-tree!"

"It isn't just blight, dear; it's one particular blight. A blight.
Hereward, the Last of the Blights." He wandered round the hall. "Where's
the lead?" he asked.

"Jeremy, don't be absurd."

"My dear, I must have something to lead him up for his prize on. During
the parade he can sit on my shoulder informally, but when we come to the
prize-giving, 'Mr. J. P. Smith's blight, Hereward,' must be led on
properly." He pulled open a drawer. "Oh, here we are. I'd better take
the chain; he might bite through the leather one."

They arrived a little late, to find a lawn full of people and animals;
and one glance was sufficient to tell Jeremy that in some of the classes
at least his pet would have many dangerous rivals.

"If there's a prize for the biggest," he said to his wife, "my blight
has practically lost it already. Adams has brought a cart-horse. Hullo,
Adams," he went on, "how are you? Don't come too close or Hereward may
do your animal a mischief."

"Who's Hereward?"

Jeremy opened his cigarette-case.

"Hereward," he said. "Not the woodbine; that's quite wild. The blight.
He's much more domesticated, but there are moments when he gets out of
hand and becomes unmanageable. He gave me the slip coming here, and I
had to chase him through the churchyard; that's why we're late."

"Does he take meals with the family?" asked Adams with a grin.

"No, no; he has them alone in the garden. You ought to see him having
his bath. George, our gardener, looks after him. George gives him a
special bath of soapy water every day. Hereward simply loves it. George
squirts on him, and Hereward lies on his back and kicks his legs in the
air. It's really quite pretty to watch them."

He nodded to Adams, and wandered through the crowd with Mrs. Jeremy. The
collection of animals was remarkable; they varied in size from Adams's
cart-horse to Jeremy's blight; in playfulness from the Vicar's kitten
to Miss Trehearne's chrysalis; and in ability for performing tricks from
the Major's poodle to Dr. Bunton's egg of the Cabbage White.

"There ought to be a race for them all," said Mrs. Jeremy. "A handicap,
of course."

"Hereward is very fast over a short distance," said Jeremy, "but he
wants encouragement. If he were given ninety-nine yards, two feet, and
eleven inches in a hundred, and you were to stand in front of him with a
William Allan Richardson, I think we might pull it off. But, of cou