Mr. Brett reached out an arm, seized the Pom nearest him, and stuffed it, screaming, into a capacious pocket; John ought to have caught the other Pom—he nearly caught it, but unfortunately the sight of Bodger passing imperturbably through hot chocolate and whipped cream (it was Hermione’s table he had overturned) checked him, by a gust of laughter. The chuckle cost him the life of the Pom. Bichon dived past him, making foolishly away from Hermione towards the open lawn. Hermione screamed and deflected Bodger from her chair. He was on the Pom’s trail in a second and an instant later Bichon was painlessly shaken into Eternity. John caught Bodger only a moment afterwards, but there was nothing left to catch of Bichon: he had entered upon the first unbroken silence of his career. John beat Bodger sternly and without mercy, but Bodger merely licked his lips, writhed as a matter of form, and hunted for the other Pom, out of the corner of a wicked eye. Bichette had hysterics in Mr. Brett’s waistcoat. Hermione missed a great opportunity. She should have fainted, probably she would have fainted, only a spontaneous faint comes off quicker than one which is premeditated. Before she had time to think of it, Elise had forestalled her. Elise had spent a long hot day trying to make everybody happy and comfortable, and bloodshed upon the top of these efforts was more than she could stand. “Now,” said Hermione with her grey eyes cold with hatred, “perhaps John you will be content to part with that unspeakable monster, when you see what it has done to your poor wife!” “Hermione,” said Mr. Brett, suddenly depositing the remaining Pom upon her lap. “Quit this lawn and take this demented muff with you. You and your dogs between you have done enough mischief for one bright summer’s day.” Hermione murmured that dear Papa was of course upset, but she did leave the lawn with Bichette under her arm, casting a glance of terror and aversion at the recumbent, contemplative form of Bodger. John was on his knees beside his wife. “She’s round, John,” said Mr. Brett very gently. “I guess the thing that will suit her best is for you to stay there quietly with her till dinner time.” Elise whispered that she was perfectly all right, but some one must go at once to help and comfort Hermione. “Sure,” agreed Mr. Brett with alacrity. “I’ll go right in and see to Hermione. I’ve assisted her some already, but it ain’t anything to what I _might_ do if I put my mind to it.” Mr. Brett moved off with unusual quickness across the lawn, and in a fit of absent-mindedness called out “Good dog” as he passed Bodger. CHAPTER VII When Mr. Brett reached the house his steps became slower. The look on his face was that of a man who foresees and dreads the weight of a task which he has already experienced. He was not going to evade it, but he halted to measure his strength before he adjusted himself to the familiar yoke.