"Patch is too funny," he said. "He'll come as far as the bank--you know, below the thicket--and not a step farther. He just stands there and wags his tail apologetically. And there at the foot of the bank he waits until I return." Valerie laughed merrily. "Poor little dog," she said. "It was enough to----" "I say, Val, did I leave my flask in the car?" The two had been too much absorbed to observe the return of the fresh-faced youngster, and the latter's words cut their communion short, much as the sudden rasp of curtain-rings scatters the rear of slumber. It was providential that the world was moving again. The suspension of perpetual motion would have been bound to excite remark. As it was, the new-comer was upon the very edge of staring, when-- "Let me introduce Mr. Every--Major Lyveden," said Valerie. The two men nodded mechanically and murmured politeness. "Yes, you did, Peter. Here you are." She plucked the lost property from the bowels of the seat and rose to restore it. "By the way," she added adroitly, "now's your chance. Major Lyveden'll tell you whether you ought to wash a horse's legs." Thus appealed to-- "Unless," said Anthony, "you've got a groom in a million, I shouldn't advise it. It means mud-fever." "There you are," said Valerie, doubly triumphant. The youth's face was a study. Respect was fairly bundling Astonishment out of the way. Anthony had spoken as one having authority, and Every was visibly impressed. "You really think so, sir?" With one accord Valerie and Anthony smiled. The employment of the title was at once so irregular and so appropriate. Instinct had shown herself to be above raiment. Surely no manner of man ever was paid so exquisite a compliment. A motor-horn coughed, and Anthony glanced over his shoulder. Then-- "I must go," he said quietly. "Good-bye." He touched his cap with a smile and left them. Every gazed after him with his hat in his hand. Then he looked at Valerie with wide eyes. "But--but he's a footman," he said stupidly. * * * * * When upon the following day Anthony admitted that he had never seen the view from The Beacon, the Alisons, all three, cried out upon the omission with no uncertain voice. The four were breakfasting. "But," declared Anne, "you simply must see it. It's the most wonderful view in the world." Anthony doubted this. He did not say so, of course, but he would have staked a month's wages that he could have shown them a finer. As it was, he expressed politely enthusiastic astonishment. "It is, really," said Betty. "And the tints at this time of year--why, even George raves about it!" "That's right," said her husband. "Never lose an opportunity of insult. Why 'even George'? Can't a chauffeur have a soul?" "Who went to sleep at the Russian Ballet?" said Betty. "Go on," said George. "Rake over the muck-heap. And what if I did? The music suggested slumber. I merely adopted the suggestion."