"I shan't know what to say." "I'll tell you." "Very well." "And after that," said John, "you and he are going to be like two love-birds." He thumped the desk. "Do you understand? Love-birds." "Very well." There was something in the unhappy man's tone as he spoke, something so crushed and forlorn that John could not but melt a little. He paused at the door. It crossed his mind that he might possibly be able to cheer him up. "Uncle Lester," he said, "how did you get on with Sergeant-Major Flannery at Healthward Ho?" Mr. Carmody winced. Unpleasant memories seemed to be troubling him. "Just before I left," said John, "I blacked his eye and we fell downstairs together." "Downstairs?" "Right down the entire flight. He thumped his head against an oak chest." On Mr. Carmody's drawn face there hovered for an instant a faint flickering smile. "I thought you'd be pleased," said John. II Colonel Wyvern hitched the celebrated eyebrows into a solid mass across the top of his nose, and from beneath them stared hideously at Jane, his parlour maid. Jane had just come into the morning room, where he was having a rather heated conversation with his daughter, Patricia, and had made the astounding statement that Mr. Lester Carmody was waiting in his front hall. "Who?" said Colonel Wyvern, rumbling like a thunder cloud. "Sir, please, sir, Mr. Carmody." "Mr. Carmody?" "And Mr. Carroll, sir." Pat, who had been standing by the French windows, caught in her breath with a little click of her firm white teeth. "Show them in, Jane," she said. "Yes, miss." "I will not see that old thug," said Colonel Wyvern. "Show them in, Jane," repeated Pat, firmly. "You must, Father," she said as the door closed. "He may have come to apologize about that dynamite thing." "Much more likely he's come about that business of yours. Well, I've told you already and I say it again that nothing will induce me..." "All right, Father. We can talk about that later. I'll be out in the garden if you want me." She went out through the French windows, and almost simultaneously the door opened and John and his uncle came in. John paused in the doorway, gazing eagerly toward the garden. "Was that Pat?" he asked. "I beg your pardon," said Colonel Wyvern. "Was that Pat I thought I caught a glimpse of, going into the garden?" "My daughter has just gone into the garden," said Colonel Wyvern with cold formality. "Oh?" said John. He seemed about to follow her but a sudden bark from the owner of the house brought him to a halt. "Well?" said Colonel Wyvern, and the monosyllable was a verbal pistol shot. It brought John back instantly from dreamland, and, almost more than the spectacle of his host's eyebrows, told him that life was stern and life was earnest. "Oh, yes," he said. "What do you mean, Oh yes?"