hrough her mind of
disguising herself and sweeping a crossing--there were stories of
wealthy crossing-sweepers--or rivaling Charlie Chaplin on the cinema
stage, but somehow they did not seem quite practicable for a girl of
sixteen. She left Quenrede's question unanswered. It was only late on
Saturday afternoon that a great idea came to her. Great--but so
overwhelming that she winced at the bare notion. It was as if some inner
voice said to her: "Sell Derry!" Now Derry, the fox terrier, was her
very own property. He had been given to her two years before by a cousin
as a birthday present. He was of prize breed, and had brought his
pedigree with him. He was a smart, bright little fellow, and on the
whole a favorite in the household, though he sometimes got into trouble
for jumping on to the best chairs and leaving his hairs on the cushions.
It had never particularly struck Ingred that Derry was of value, until
last week, when Mr. Hardcastle noticed him. Relations with that precise
old neighbor next door had been rather strained for a long time, since
the unfortunate episode when Hereward had unwittingly discharged the
contents of the garden syringe in his face. For months he studiously
avoided them, calling his collie away with quite unnecessary caution if
they happened to pass him on the road, and bolting into his own premises
if they met near the gate. But one day, about Christmas-time, Sam, the
collie, who was a giddy and irresponsible sort of dog, given to aimless
yapping at passing conveyances, overdid his supposed guardianship of his
owner's property, and blundered into a motor that was whisking by. The
car did not trouble to stop, and when it was a hundred yards away, Sam
picked himself up and limped on three legs to show his bleeding paw to
his agitated master. Fortunately Athelstane, from the bungalow garden,
had witnessed the accident, and came forward like a Good Samaritan with
offers of help. His elementary acquaintance with surgery stood him in
good stead, and he neatly set the injured limb, and bound it up with
splints and plaster. There had been many inquiries over the hedge as to
the invalid's progress, and congratulations when the bandages were able
at last to be removed. Old Mr. Hardcastle had waxed quite friendly as he
expressed his thanks, and one day, catching Ingred by the gate with
Derry, he had volunteered the information that "that fox terrier of
yours is a fine dog, and no mistake, and would be wor