But Fay was always unexpected. "Then Med muss wass me," she remarked calmly. The good custom was established and Meg began to perk up again. CHAPTER XIII THE WHEELS OF CHANCE Meg was out walking with the children in Kensington Gardens, and Hannah was paying the tradesmen's books. It was the only way to make Hannah take the air, to send her, as she put it, "to do the messages." She liked paying the books herself, for she always suspected Jan of not counting the change. Jan was alone in the flat and was laying tea for the children in the dining-room when "ting" went the electric bell. She opened the door to find upon the threshold an exceedingly tall young man; a well-set-up, smart young man with square shoulders, who held out his hand to her, saying in a friendly voice: "You may just happen to remember me, Miss Ross, but probably not. Colonel Walcote's my uncle, and he's living in your house, you know. My name's Middleton ... I _hope_ you remember me, for I've come to ask a favour." As he spoke he gave Jan his card, and on it was "Captain Miles Middleton, R. H. A.," and the addresses of two clubs. She led him to the little drawing-room, bracing herself the while to be firm in her refusal if the Walcotes wanted the house any longer, good tenants though they were. She was hopelessly vague about her guest, but felt she had met him somewhere. She didn't like to confess how slight her recollection was, for he looked so big and brown and friendly it seemed unkind. He sat down, smoothed his hat, and then with an engaging smile that showed his excellent teeth, began: "I've come--it sounds rather farcical, doesn't it--about a dog?" "A dog?" Jan repeated vaguely. "What dog?" "Well, he's my dog at present, but I want him to be your dog--if you'll have him." "You want to give me a dog--but why? Or do you only want me to keep him a bit for you?" "Well, it's like this, Miss Ross; it would be cheek to ask you to keep a young dog, and when you'd had all the trouble of him and got fond of him--and you'll get awfully fond of him, if you have him--to take him away again. It wouldn't be fair, it really wouldn't ... so...." "Wait a bit," said the cautious Jan. "What sort of a dog is he ... if it is a he...." "He's a bull-terrier...." "Oh, but I don't think I'm very fond of bull-terriers ... aren't they fierce and doesn't one always associate them with public-houses? I couldn't have a fierce dog, you know, because of the two children." "They're always nice with children," Captain Middleton said firmly. "And as for the pothouse idea--that's quite played out. I suppose it was that picture with the mug and the clay pipe. He'd _love_ the children; he's only a child himself, you know." "A puppy! Oh, Captain Middleton, wouldn't he eat all our shoes and things and tear up all the rugs?"