Berry and Co Part 19

"I happen to know," I concluded, "that the lady of the limousine is here to-night. Before the ball is over I shall have danced with her."

"But you've never seen her," she protested.

"I know her voice."

She laughed musically.

"Aren't you a bit of an optimist?" she queried.

"I don't think so. And she's just sweet."

"But if you don't know her name, how can you hope----"

"Her name," I said, "is Dot."

The hand upon my shoulder shook slightly.

We danced on.

At length--

"That's not very much to go on," said Elizabeth.

I sighed.

"Don't discourage me," I said. "When I find her, d'you think she'll give me the seven dances she said she would?"

"O-o-oh, I never...." She choked and began to cough violently, so that I drew her out of the press and into a vacant corner. "I never heard of such a thing," she continued ingeniously.

"You wicked girl," said I. "Why was Clapham Common?"

For a moment she looked at me speechless. Then she began to laugh tremulously....

With a crash the jazz came to an end. Almost immediately another orchestra took up the running, and the strains of a valse rose up, plaintive and tempting.

I looked at my lady.

"Have I earned my dances, Dot?"

She hesitated. Then--

"Carry on, Carry One," she said.

CHAPTER IV

HOW n.o.bBY CAME TO SLEEP UPON MY BED, AND BERRY FELL AMONG THIEVES.

Thoughtfully I read the letter again.

_... It nearly breaks my heart to say so, but I've got to part with n.o.bby. I'm going to India to join Richard, you know, and I'm sailing next week. I think you'd get on together. He's a one-man dog and a bit queer-tempered with strangers--all Sealyhams are. But he's a good little chap--very sporting, very healthy, and a real beauty. Let me know one way or the other, and, if you'd like to have him, I'll send him round with his licence and pedigree._

_Yours very sincerely,_

_JOSEPHINE CHILDE._

_P.S.--He's always slept on my bed._

The letter had been forwarded to me from London, for I was spending the week-end in Leicestershire with the Scarlets.

I looked across the flagged hall to my host, who was leaning against a table with a hunting horn in each hand, listening critically to the noise he was making, and endeavouring to decide upon which of the two instruments he could wind the most inspiring call.

"Live and let live," said I. With a grin Bertram suspended his operations. "Listen. I've been offered a Sealyham."

"Take him," was the reply. "Your guests will regret it, but you won't.

They're high-spirited and they're always full of beans. Hard as nails, too," he added. "You'll never kill him. Tell me." He brandished the horn which he held in his right hand. "Don't you think this sounds the best?"

With an effort he produced a most distressing sound. "Or this?" Putting the other to his lips, he emitted a precisely similar note.

"There's no difference at all," said I, crossing to a bureau. "They're equally painful. They do it rather better at level-crossings on the Continent."

"It is patent," said Bertram, "that you have no ear for music."

"All right," said I, making ready to write. "You try it. The hounds'll all sit up and beg or something. I suppose it's too much to expect to find a pen that'll write here," I added, regarding uneasily the enormous quill with which the bureau was decorated.

"That's a jolly good pen," said Bertram indignantly. "Every one says so."

I grunted my disbelief.

"Which end shall I use?"

"I recommend the right one," rejoined my host with ponderous sarcasm.

"But, as I have yet to meet any one who can read your writing, I don't suppose it matters."

"I have often deplored the company you keep," said I, and with that I selected a large sheet of paper and wrote as follows--

_DEAR MISS CHILDE,_

_I'd like to have n.o.bby very much. I'm awfully sorry for you, but I'll be very kind to him for both your sakes. The reference you give him is most satisfactory. I suppose he'll want one evening a week and every other Sunday. And will he do in the front steps and spoil the knives? Or only ruin the boots? I beg your pardon. For the moment I was thinking of the cook who nearly engaged us. Only she wanted a pension after six months' service. It was very nice of you to think of me. I'll write you a proper letter when I send you a receipt. I return to Town to-morrow._

_Yours very sincerely,_

_P.S.--He shall always sleep on mine._