"I believe you good people think I've come back broke to the world. The black sheep returned like a wolf to the fold. Only Peggy drew a correct inference from the valet--wait till you see him! As Peggy said, I've been getting on." He laid a light hand on the Dean's shoulder. "While all you folks in Durdlebury, especially my dear Doggie, for the last ten years have been durdling, I've been doing. I've not come all this way to tap relations for five-pound notes. I'm swaggering into the City of London for Capital--with a great big C." Marmaduke twirled his little moustache. "You've taken to company promoting," he remarked acidly. "I have. And a damn--I beg your pardon, Uncle Edward--we poor Pacific Islanders lisp in damns for want of deans to hold us up--and a jolly good company too. We--that's I and another man--that's all the company as yet--two's company, you know--own a trading fleet." "You own ships?" cried Peggy. "Rather. Own 'em, sail 'em, navigate 'em, stoke 'em, clean out the boilers, sit on the safety valves when we want to make speed, do every old thing----" "And what do you trade in?" asked the Dean. "Copra, beche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl----" "Mother-of-pearl! How awfully romantic!" cried Peggy. "We've got a fishery. At any rate, the concession. To work it properly we require capital. That's why I'm here--to turn the concern into a limited company." "And where is this wonderful place?" asked the Dean. "Huaheine." "What a beautiful word!" "Isn't it?" said Oliver. "Like the sigh of a girl in her sleep." The old Dean shot a swift glance at his nephew; then took his arm and walked on, and looked at the vast mass of the cathedral and at the quiet English garden in its evening shadow. "Copra, beche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl, Huaheine," he murmured. "And these strange foreign things are the commonplaces of your life!" Peggy and Marmaduke lagged behind a little. She pressed his arm. "I'm so glad you're staying for dinner. I shouldn't like to think you were running away from him." "I was only afraid of losing my temper and making a scene," replied Doggie with dignity. "His manners are odious," said Peggy. "You leave him to me." Suddenly the Dean, taking a turn that brought him into view of the porch, stopped short. "Goodness gracious!" he cried. "Who in the world is that?" He pointed to a curious object slouching across the lawn; a short hirsute man wearing a sailor's jersey and smoking a stump of a blackened pipe. His tousled head was bare; he had very long arms and great powerful hands protruded at the end of long sinewy wrists from inadequate sleeves. A pair of bright eyes shone out of his dark shaggy face, like a Dandy Dinmont's. His nose was large and red. He rolled as he walked. Such a sight had never been seen before in the Deanery garden. "That's my man. Peggy's valet," said Oliver airily. "His name is Chipmunk. A beauty, isn't he?" "Like master, like man," murmured Doggie.