Meldon's remark interrupted him in the middle of adding up a long column of pence. He failed to recollect where he had got to and was obliged to begin over again. "I can have the trap, I suppose," said Meldon, a couple of minutes later. Major Kent had got to the shillings column. "Yes. But do stop talking." "Why?" said Meldon. "Without conversation we might as well be living in total solitude; and Bacon says, in one of his essays, that solitude is only fit for a god or a beast. You may like being a beast, Major, but I don't. You'll hardly set up, I suppose, to be a god." "Hang it all, J. J.! I've forgotten how many shillings I had to carry, and now I shall have to begin the whole tot over again." "Hand it out to me," said Meldon, "and I'll settle the whole thing for you in two minutes." "Certainly not," said the Major. "I know your way of dealing with account books. I may be slow, but I do like to be tidy." "Very well," said Meldon, "if you choose to be unsociable, merely in order to give yourself a lot of quite unnecessary trouble, of course you can. I won't speak again." Ten minutes later he did speak again, to the great annoyance of Major Kent, who was estimating the total cost of the hay eaten by his polo ponies during the year--a most intricate business, for hay varied a good deal in price. "Doyle's coming along the road in his trap," said Meldon, "and he looks to me very much as if he was coming here. He must want to see you about something. He can't possibly have any business with me." "Hang Doyle!" "If you like," said Meldon, "I'll deal with him and keep him off you. I should rather enjoy a chat with Doyle." "Thanks. I wish you would. It can't be anything important." "I expect he has come for your subscription for the illuminated address he and Dr. O'Donoghue are getting up for the police sergeant. I promised the other day that you'd give something. If you sign a cheque and stick it out on the window-sill, I'll fill up the amount and hand it on to Doyle. I should say that one pound would be a handsome contribution, and I may get you off with ten shillings. It'll all depend on how the money is coming in. He's turning in at the gate now, so you'd better hurry up.--Ah! Good morning, Doyle. Lovely day, isn't it? Seen anything of our friend Simpkins this morning?" "I have not," said Doyle, "and I don't want to. I wouldn't care if I never set eyes on that fellow again." "You'd have liked to have seen him yesterday," said Meldon. "I would not." "You would. The Major had him out for a day in the _Spindrift_, and--" Meldon winked. Doyle got down from his trap and stood at the horse's head. "A sicker man," said Meldon, "you never saw." "Sick!" "As a dog. Beastly sick. I don't care to enter into details; but, considering the small amount he ate during the day, the way he kept at it would have surprised you." "Sick! What's the good of being sick? Why didn't you drown him?"