What Timmy Did

tre window of the long drawing-room, hands duly washed, and his genera

two years ago, was the boy's most precious personal possession. Timmy was a careful, almost uncannily thrifty child, with quite a lot of money in the Savings Bank, b

as aware that this hope would never be fulfilled, for Radmore, in this photograph, at any rate, had a str

reater moment than he would have admitted to anyone. Radmore was his secret hero; and now, to-night, he asked himself painfully, why had his hero left off loving B

should be shut up in the stable. Dolly, who so seldom bothered about anything, had seen to this herself, because Mrs. Crofton, who was coming to supper, hated dogs. Timmy in

ig, roomy sofa, which could, at a pinch, hold seven or eight people, the pinch usually being when, for the benefit of Timmy, the sofa was supposed to be a stage coach of long ago on its way to London. The Tos

r five minutes. So he went back to the window. All at once he saw in the gathering twilight, two people walking u

dately, a wire-haired terrier. What an extraordinary thing! Surely that dog, walking by the stranger, was Flick-Flick, having escaped from the stable, and behaving for a

hese two people in to supper. If that was so, Timmy, who was as much at home in the kitchen as in the drawing-room, knew that there would not be quite enough to go round comfortably. This was all the more irritating, as he himself was looking forward to-night to tasting, for the first time, an especially delicious dish. This was lobster pie, for which Old Place had been famed

ing-room, meaning to make a bolt for it into what was still called the schoolroom. He did not wish to be ca

charming to-night, in a rather bright blue evening dress, and Timm

en glancing at her slim, active figure in the early Victorian cheval glass which had belonged to her husban

hands and brushed his hair. She could only hope for the best: "I hope we shall like Mrs

usband had read aloud Mrs. Crofton's pretty, well-turned letter-the letter which explained that the writer was looking out for a country house, an

chingly into her face: "Do you suppose," he asked,

question: "Of course not. Whatever put such

e girl, who was staying on for two hours beyond her usual time because

which was so extraordinarily like Flick-had only brought her as far as the door. And then, while his mother was shaking hands with

what most people-such people, for instance, a

ind of way the color of her big, pathetic-looking eyes. Timmy told himself at once that he did not like her-that she looked "a muff". It distressed

or he wanted to hear what they were saying. Timmy always enjoyed hearing grown-up people's conversation, especially when they had forgotten that he was present.

was a pause, then Timmy heard his mother

of a woman. But as to that, Janet Tosswill showed less than her usual intelligence. She still thought of Godfrey Radmore as

te colour in her cheeks deepened. "One day he began to talk about himself, and he tol

ight!" she exclaimed. "I must go and hurry my young people-their fathe

back, before the visitor. She felt just a little startled; she had not known the strange-looking boy was still there. Then she told

slight feeling of apprehension and dis

e asked abruptly, in an unchildish voic

ed hesitatingly, and yet she

r Radmore,"

eable little fellow had aske

I saw him the day before yesterday." She forced herself to go on lightly.

outside? Dolly thought you didn't like dogs, so my terrier, Flick, has been shut

's quite true that I don't like dogs-or, rather, I

s with you belonged t

know what the child was talking about, and she was relieved when the door opened,

sense of relief, that he was the sort of man who generally shows a distantly chivalrous regard for women. Next to her host, his eldest son, J

gratitude. Janet looked what Mrs. Crofton called "clever," and somehow she never got on with clever women. Betty and Dolly she dismissed as of no account. Rosamund was the one the attractive strang

ld have been surprised indeed had sh

sufficiently human to be attracted by the stranger's grace and charm, was inclined to reserve his judgment. The three girls found her very engaging, and their step-mother, if more critical, was quite ready to like her. As is often the case with people who only care fo

s not only becoming, but had that indefinable look which implies thought, care, and cost-especially cost. All four ladies decided imm

ir visitor. Already he was jealous of the pretty, pathetic-looking young

This is supper, not dinner, Mrs. Crofton. I hope you don't mind lobster? When I first came to Old Place, almost the first thing I learnt was that it was celebrated for its lob

r she had been served, Timmy's fears were set at rest, for his mother, very impr

ough in a mean, rather narrow way, than she had at first supposed. Also, Mrs. Crofton was certainly very attractive. As the talk turned to London do

long, high-ceilinged sitting-room, which had such a cosy, homelike look she told herself that it was no wonde

et. It was a lovely evening, a true St. Martin's summer night, and the middle one o

animated account of some of her own experiences-how she had managed to spend a very exciting fortnight not far from the Front, in a hospital run by a great lady with whom she had a slight acquaintance. Soon, sooner than usual, Mr. Tosswill and his three sons came into the drawing-room, and they were all talking and laughing together happily when a most unlucky, and untoward, acciden

our-that no one moved. Then Mrs. Crofton gave a kind of gasp, and cov

tting, and as he did so, his mother called out affr

the floor beside his dog. "Flick," he said warningly, "what's the matter, old chap? Has anything hurt you?" As

s arms, then he gathered the dog to him, and, getting up from th

ill, who had been sitting rather apart from th

ys regarded Flick as one of the best tempered of dogs.

lf, there were tears in her eyes and her lips were trembling. "If you are on the telephone," she said appealingly, "I should be so gratefu

ve you home in our old pony cart," she said so

tty, she went off into the hall and quietly fetched Mrs. Crofton's charming evening cloak and becoming little hood. As she did so she told herself again that Mrs. Crofton must be much better off than they had

orror of dogs, and I'm afraid that in some uncanny way they always know it! It's such bad luck, f

hose things which, even if people are thinking of, they mostly leave unsai

her face alter. A curious expression of-was it pain?-it looked more like f

ne of the windows, and Mrs. Crofton, whose nerves were

ly, and then she went and opened the window. "I h

ve, Mum. He's q

and as she met the enquiring, alien look, she told herself, for the second time that e

art was at the door, and that Jack

It was a bright, beautiful, moonlight night,

venue, Enid Crofton told herself that in spite of that horrible incident with the dog-it was so strange that Flick should come, as it were, to haunt her out of her old life, t

of his little godson. But there is a great difference between an attractive baby-child of three and a forward, spoilt, undersized boy of twelve. About a week ago, while they were enjoying a delicious little dinner in the B

fton; and now the recollection of them made her feel quite angry. All her life