"I quite appreciate the fact that he is only a trust. When you are ready for him he will be more than glad to return." "But," she protested, "that wouldn't be fair--to you." Unwittingly Mr Musgrave had roused her sympathy by that reference to his solitary fireside. It seemed rather selfish to claim Diogenes when he had grown attached to the dog. "It wouldn't be fair to you," he returned, "or to Diogenes, if I kept him. That was not a part of the contract." "Was there any contract?" she asked, smiling. "I understood that you sacrificed your personal inclination in order to get Diogenes and me out of a hole. It was a hole, wasn't it?" She laughed. It was easy to laugh now over the miseries of that morning, but it had been no laughing matter at the time. John Musgrave had rendered her an unforgettable service in rescuing her from that dilemma. "It was a hole--yes," he admitted. He looked at her fixedly. "If, as you say, I sacrificed my inclination on that occasion, I have been adequately rewarded since; and so, you see, I can't look on the matter as one requiring thanks. I will keep Diogenes until you are quite ready for him; then you can come in and fetch him, as you do now--and not bring him back again." While he spoke it was abruptly borne in on John Musgrave's consciousness that he would miss, besides Diogenes, these surreptitious visits of Peggy Annersley's to which he was growing accustomed, though he did not always see her when she slipped in at his back entrance; but when he purposely put himself in the way, as upon the present occasion, he felt increasingly obliged to Diogenes, and to the accident of circumstances that was responsible for bringing her there. "I believe," Peggy said unexpectedly, "that I shall be rather sorry when that day comes. It's such fun sharing a jolly secret like this. There is a feeling of adventure... a sort of alliance of conspiracy. If Moresby only knew!" If Moresby did not actually know, it suspected more than Miss Annersley guessed, and it was beginning to talk. Mr Musgrave's reputation, which had stood the test of years, was suddenly observed to be inclining dangerously, upsetting the popular belief in the rocklike foundations of its structural character; suggesting, indeed, the sandy nature of the soil which formed its basis. The best of servants will talk; and, save for Martha, Mr Musgrave's servants were not superior in this respect to any others. Miss Peggy Annersley's visits to Mr Musgrave's establishment were fairly generally known and discussed in the village. "When I take Diogenes from you," Peggy added, "you will have to come and visit him. He'll feel hurt if you don't." "I shall come," John Musgrave answered quietly, "often. After all, I have a certain right in the dog." Peggy nodded.