ong, high-ceilinged sitting-room,
which had such a cosy, homelike look she told herself that it was no
wonder Godfrey Radmore liked the delightful old house, and these kindly,
old-fashioned, and--and unsuspicious people.

Two tall Argand lamps cast a soft radiance over the shabby furniture and
faded carpet. It was a lovely evening, a true St. Martin's summer night,
and the middle one of the three long French windows was widely open on to
the fragrant, scented garden.

Mrs. Crofton, a graceful, appealing figure in her soft, black chiffon
gown, hesitated a moment--she wondered where they wanted her to sit?
And then Mrs. Tosswill came forward and, taking her hand, led her to the
big sofa, while one of the girls fetched an extra cushion so that she
might sit back comfortably. The talk drifted to the War, and Enid Crofton
was soon engaged in giving an animated account of some of her own
experiences--how she had managed to spend a very exciting fortnight not
far from the Front, in a hospital run by a great lady with whom she had a
slight acquaintance. Soon, sooner than usual, Mr. Tosswill and his three
sons came into the drawing-room, and they were all talking and laughing
together happily when a most unlucky, and untoward, accident happened!
Timmy's dog, Flick, having somehow escaped from the stable, suddenly ran
in from the dark garden, straight through the window opposite the sofa
round which the whole of the party was now gathered together. When about
a yard from Mrs. Crofton, he stopped dead, and emitted a series of short,
wild howls, while his hair bristled and stood on end, and his eyes flamed
blood red.

They were all so surprised--so extremely taken aback by Flick's
behaviour--that no one moved. Then Mrs. Crofton gave a kind of gasp, and
covering her face with her hands, cowered back in the corner of the sofa.

Timmy jumped up from the stool where he had been sitting, and as he did
so, his mother called out affrightedly: "Don't go near Flick, Timmy--he
looks mad!"

But Timmy was no coward, and Flick was one of the few living things he
loved in the world. He threw himself on the floor beside his dog.
"Flick," he said warningly, "what's the matter, old chap? Has anything
hurt you?" As he spoke he put out his skinny little arms, and Flick,
though still shivering and growling, began to calm down.

The little boy waited a moment, Flick panting convulsively in his arms,
then he gathered the dog to him, and, getting u