e to make her Ladyship's apologies. She has
put the poor dear dog into a warm bath, and she can't leave him. And Mr.
Moody can't come instead of me, because I was too frightened to be of
any use, and so he had to hold the dog. That's all. We are very anxious
sir, to know if the warm bath is the right thing. Please come into the
room and tell us."

She led the way back to the door. Hardyman, naturally enough, was
slow to follow her. When a man is fascinated by the charm of youth and
beauty, he is in no hurry to transfer his attention to a sick animal
in a bath. Hardyman seized on the first excuse that he could devise
for keeping Isabel to himself--that is to say, for keeping her in the
drawing-room.

"I think I shall be better able to help you," he said, "if you will tell
me something about the dog first."

Even his accent in speaking had altered to a certain degree. The quiet,
dreary monotone in which he habitually spoke quickened a little under
his present excitement. As for Isabel, she was too deeply interested
in Tommie's welfare to suspect that she was being made the victim of a
stratagem. She left the door and returned to Hardyman with eager eyes.
"What can I tell you, sir?" she asked innocently.

Hardyman pressed his advantage without mercy.

"You can tell me what sort of dog he is?"

"Yes, sir."

"How old he is?"

"Yes, sir."

"What his name is?--what his temper is?--what his illness is? what
diseases his father and mother had?--what--"

Isabel's head began to turn giddy. "One thing at a time, sir!" she
interposed, with a gesture of entreaty. "The dog sleeps on my bed, and I
had a bad night with him, he disturbed me so, and I am afraid I am very
stupid this morning. His name is Tommie. We are obliged to call him by
it, because he won't answer to any other than the name he had when my
Lady bought him. But we spell it with an _i e_ at the end, which makes
it less vulgar than Tommy with a _y_. I am very sorry, sir--I forget
what else you wanted to know. Please to come in here and my Lady will
tell you everything."

She tried to get back to the door of the boudoir. Hardyman, feasting
his eyes on the pretty, changeful face that looked up at him with such
innocent confidence in his authority, drew her away from the door by the
one means at his disposal. He returned to his questions about Tommie.

"Wait a little, please. What sort of dog is he?"

Isabel turned back again from the door. To describe Tommi