o’
me!”
Amongst the assembled persons none but the cowman knew better than Frederica how unpardonable was Lufra’s crime. One glance at this individual’s inflamed countenance was enough to convince her that an appeal addressed to him would be waste of breath. Inwardly quaking, she said: “Take care! This dog belongs to the Marquis of Alverstoke! He is extremely valuable, and if anything were to happen to him his lordship would be very angry indeed!”
The younger park-keeper, who had formed his own, not inexpert, opinion of Lufra’s lineage, said bluntly: “Gammon! No Markiss never bought ‘ im !‘E’d be dear at a grig! ‘E’s a mongrel, that’s what ‘e is!”
“A mongrel ?”exclaimed Frederica. “Let me tell you that he is a pure-bred Barcelona collie, brought to England at—at enormous expense! I am sorry that he should have chased the cows, but—but he was merely trying to herd them! The breed is used for that purpose in Spain, and—and he is not yet accustomed to English cows!”
“Trying to herd them?” gasped the cowman. “I never did, not in all my life! Why, you’re as bad as he is!”
The younger park-keeper had no hesitation in endorsing this verdict. He said that Miss was coming it too strong, adding that while he knew nothing about Barcelona collies he did know a mongrel when he saw one. He also said, sticking to his original point, that, in his opinion, no Markiss never bought such a dog as Lufra.
“Indeed!” said Frederica. “And, pray, are you acquainted with my cousin, the Marquis of Alverstoke?”
“What impudence!” ejaculated the hatchet-faced lady. “Calling yourself a Marquis’s cousin, and jauntering about the town alone! A likely story!”
After a good deal of argument, during which the younger park-keeper supported the hatchet-faced lady, the cowman said (several times) that Marquis or no Marquis any damage done to his cows must be paid for, and the elder park-keeper temporized, a sturdy citizen in a snuff-coloured frock-coat, proffered the suggestion that the Marquis should be applied to for corroboration of Miss’s story.
“A very excellent notion!” declared Frederica warmly. “Let us go to his house immediately! It is quite close, in Berkeley Square.”
Left to himself, the elder park-keeper would at this stage have abandoned the affair. If the young lady was willing to seek out the Marquis it seemed to him to prove that she really was his cousin; and although he knew that this did not affect the issue he was very unwilling to proceed further in the matter. Properly speaking, of course, the Marquis— if he was the dog’s owner—was liable for a fine, let alone what Mr Beal’s head cowman might claim from him by way of damages; but when you were dealing with lords you wanted to be careful. The younger park-keeper, who was the recipient of this confidence, became suddenly thoughtful; but the cowman grimly accepted Frederica’s invitation, saying that he would have his rights even if the dog belonged to the Queen—meaning no disrespect to her; and the hatchet-faced lady, her eyes snapping, said that if the park-keepers didn’t know their duty she did, and would bring the affair to the notice of the Ranger. There seemed nothing for it but to go with the young lady. The hatchet-faced lady announced that she too would go, and that if—which she doubted—a Marquis was forthcoming she would give him a piece of her mind.
The door of Alverstoke House was opened by a footman. He was a well-trained young man, but his eyes, when they perceived the cavalcade awaiting admittance, showed a tendency to start from their sockets. Frederica, carrying the situation off with a high hand, said, with a friendly smile: “Good-morning! I do trust his lordship has not yet gone out?”
The footman, Ms eyes starting more than ever, replied, in a bemused voice: “No, miss. That is,—”
“Thank goodness!” interrupted Frederica. “I don’t wonder at it that
me!”
Amongst the assembled persons none but the cowman knew better than Frederica how unpardonable was Lufra’s crime. One glance at this individual’s inflamed countenance was enough to convince her that an appeal addressed to him would be waste of breath. Inwardly quaking, she said: “Take care! This dog belongs to the Marquis of Alverstoke! He is extremely valuable, and if anything were to happen to him his lordship would be very angry indeed!”
The younger park-keeper, who had formed his own, not inexpert, opinion of Lufra’s lineage, said bluntly: “Gammon! No Markiss never bought ‘ im !‘E’d be dear at a grig! ‘E’s a mongrel, that’s what ‘e is!”
“A mongrel ?”exclaimed Frederica. “Let me tell you that he is a pure-bred Barcelona collie, brought to England at—at enormous expense! I am sorry that he should have chased the cows, but—but he was merely trying to herd them! The breed is used for that purpose in Spain, and—and he is not yet accustomed to English cows!”
“Trying to herd them?” gasped the cowman. “I never did, not in all my life! Why, you’re as bad as he is!”
The younger park-keeper had no hesitation in endorsing this verdict. He said that Miss was coming it too strong, adding that while he knew nothing about Barcelona collies he did know a mongrel when he saw one. He also said, sticking to his original point, that, in his opinion, no Markiss never bought such a dog as Lufra.
“Indeed!” said Frederica. “And, pray, are you acquainted with my cousin, the Marquis of Alverstoke?”
“What impudence!” ejaculated the hatchet-faced lady. “Calling yourself a Marquis’s cousin, and jauntering about the town alone! A likely story!”
After a good deal of argument, during which the younger park-keeper supported the hatchet-faced lady, the cowman said (several times) that Marquis or no Marquis any damage done to his cows must be paid for, and the elder park-keeper temporized, a sturdy citizen in a snuff-coloured frock-coat, proffered the suggestion that the Marquis should be applied to for corroboration of Miss’s story.
“A very excellent notion!” declared Frederica warmly. “Let us go to his house immediately! It is quite close, in Berkeley Square.”
Left to himself, the elder park-keeper would at this stage have abandoned the affair. If the young lady was willing to seek out the Marquis it seemed to him to prove that she really was his cousin; and although he knew that this did not affect the issue he was very unwilling to proceed further in the matter. Properly speaking, of course, the Marquis— if he was the dog’s owner—was liable for a fine, let alone what Mr Beal’s head cowman might claim from him by way of damages; but when you were dealing with lords you wanted to be careful. The younger park-keeper, who was the recipient of this confidence, became suddenly thoughtful; but the cowman grimly accepted Frederica’s invitation, saying that he would have his rights even if the dog belonged to the Queen—meaning no disrespect to her; and the hatchet-faced lady, her eyes snapping, said that if the park-keepers didn’t know their duty she did, and would bring the affair to the notice of the Ranger. There seemed nothing for it but to go with the young lady. The hatchet-faced lady announced that she too would go, and that if—which she doubted—a Marquis was forthcoming she would give him a piece of her mind.
The door of Alverstoke House was opened by a footman. He was a well-trained young man, but his eyes, when they perceived the cavalcade awaiting admittance, showed a tendency to start from their sockets. Frederica, carrying the situation off with a high hand, said, with a friendly smile: “Good-morning! I do trust his lordship has not yet gone out?”
The footman, Ms eyes starting more than ever, replied, in a bemused voice: “No, miss. That is,—”
“Thank goodness!” interrupted Frederica. “I don’t wonder at it that
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