the same surname, it's unavoidable. I'm known as Betty,
my sister-in-law's Anne, and that with the pipe is George."

"And I," said Lyveden, "am Anthony--at your service. This with the
hungry look"--he picked up the Sealyham--"is Patch. As the latter is
convalescent, all his days lately have been red-letter, and celebrated
by the addition to his rations of a small dish of tea. Whether such a
scandalous practice is to be followed this afternoon must rest with his
hostess."

"I think," said Betty, "as he's a _bonafide_ traveller..."

Jose, the soft-eyed spaniel, profited by the Sealyham's privilege. It
was impossible that she should not receive equal consideration.

"You must forgive my staring," said George Alison, gazing upon Anthony,
"but you just fascinate me. To think that you're not going to suck
wind when drinking, or clean your nails with a fork, is too wonderful.
Your predecessor's habits at table were purely Johnsonian."

Betty shuddered at the allusion.

"If he'd been decent," said Anne, "I could have borne it. But he was
just odious. The idea that we'd come down in the world fairly
intoxicated him."

"It's true," said George. "And when Val wrote and----"

A vicious kick upon his ankle silenced him abruptly.

"I beg your pardon," said Anthony, who had been busy with Patch.

"I was saying that--er--if you value your dog, and he's only just over
distemper, I shouldn't let him run loose just yet. Jose's a terrible
huntress, and she's sure to lead him astray. Stays out all night
sometimes."

"Right oh!" said Anthony cheerfully.

It was manifest that Patch was going to have the time of his life.

When Betty returned from ushering their new footman into the presence
of Mr. and Mrs. Bumble, she reviled her husband as he deserved.

"I forgot," he pleaded.

"Forgot!"--indignantly. "Well, if you forget and mention her name
again, I'll--I'll prick your tires."

"Any way," said George, "my withdrawal was little short of brilliant.
You'll admit that? Incidentally, her _protege's_ an improvement on
little Halbert, isn't he? I think we ought to have an appropriate
supper to-night in his honour. What about killing the padded calf?"

Betty kissed him behind the left ear.

* * * * *

Long before Anthony had received his livery from the tailor at Brooch,
he had settled down to his nice new life with heartfelt gratitude. The
old zest of living had returned to him to s