"No," she acknowledged at last. "It isn't. Perhaps I'm 'fey' to-night. I don't feel quite material Ann yet"--with a faint smile. "And--somehow--I'd rather no one knew for a little while." CHAPTER XXII WILD OATS Lady Susan came briskly into the morning-room at White Windows, and the four privileged members of the Tribes of Israel who, being allowed the run of the house, were basking in front of a cheery fire, rose in a body and rushed towards her, jealously clamouring for attention. She patted them all round with a beautiful impartiality, cuffed the Great Dane for trampling on a minute Pekingese, settled a dispute between the truculent Irish terrier and an aristocratic Chow, and proceeded to greet her nephew. "I've got an errand for you this morning, Brett," she remarked, as she poured out coffee. Forrester, who was lifting the covers of the hot dishes on the sideboard, glanced round over his shoulder. "At your service, most revered aunt. What particular job is it? Which will you have? Bacon and eggs, or fish?" "Bacon. I want you to go over to Heronsmere, if you will, and bring back that pedigree pup Mr. Coventry promised me." Brett surveyed the privileged classes on the hearth-rug with a ruminative eye. "Are you proposing to add yet another to your collection of dogs?" he inquired with some amusement. "You must pay over quite a young fortune to the Government every year in the shape of dog-licenses." Lady Susan smiled deprecatingly. "Well, I really didn't intend to add to their number just at present," she admitted. "But I couldn't resist a pup by Mr. Coventry's pedigree fox-terrier. It's a first-class strain, and he promised he'd pick me out a good puppy." "Then hadn't you better wait till he comes hack to make the selection for you?" "He _is_ back." Brett, who was in the middle of helping the bacon and eggs, paused abruptly, and a delicately poached egg promptly slid off the spoon he was holding and plopped back upon the dish, disseminating a generous spray of fat. "Damn!" he ejaculated below his breath. "Who told you Coventry was back?" he went on in an expressionless voice. Lady Susan chuckled and tried to restrain the Irish terrier's manifest intention of leaping on to her lap. "My dear boy, haven't you learned yet that nothing takes place in a tiny village like Silverquay without everybody's knowing all about it--and a little more, too! The comings and goings of an important personage like the owner of Heronsmere certainly wouldn't be allowed to pass without comment." Here she quieted the Irishman's misplaced exuberance with a lump of sugar. "Through the comparatively direct channel of my maid, who had it from Mrs. Thorowgood, the laundress, who had it from the unsullied fount of Maria Coombe herself, I've even received the additional information that Mr. Coventry paid a long visit to Oldstone Cottage yesterday."