"Come on, Bill! We'll take him round to the kitchen. You don't mind, do you?"
Span's owner shook his head; devoted though he was to his dog, he felt he could well do without Span for a while.
After Bubbles and Donnington had disappeared together, their eager voices could be heard from the paved court-yard which connected two of the wings of Wyndfell Hall. Span was barking now, barking eagerly, happily, confidently. And when the two young people reappeared they were both laughing.
"He's taken to the cook tremendously," said Bubbles. "And he's even made friends--and that's much more wonderful--with the cat. He went straight up to her and smelt her, and she seemed to be quite pleased with the attention."
She turned to Dr. Panton: "I'll go out presently and see how he's getting on," she added.
He looked at her gratefully. She really was a nice girl! He had thought that she would be one of those disagreeable, forward, self-sufficing, modern young women, who are absorbed only in themselves, and in the effect they produce on other people. But Miss Bubbles was not in the least like that.
Helen Brabazon whispered, smiling: "Isn't Bubbles Dunster a dear, Dr. Panton? She's not like anyone I ever met before--and that makes her all the nicer, doesn't it?"
About an hour after Dr. Panton's arrival, the whole of the party was more or less scattered through the delightful old house, with the exception of Lionel Varick, who had gone off to the village by himself.
But the four ladies finally gathered together in the hall to put in the time between tea and dinner.
Miss Burnaby was soon nodding over a book close to the fire, while Helen Brabazon and Blanche Farrow had brought down their work. This consisted, as far as Helen was concerned, of a complicated baby's garment destined for the Queen's Needlework Guild. Blanche, sitting close to Helen, was bending over a frame containing the intricate commencement of a fruit and bird _petit-point_ picture, which, when finished, she intended should form a banner screen for this very room.
Three seven-branched silver candlesticks had now been lighted, and formed pools of soft radiance in the gathering dusk.
After wandering about restlessly for a while, Bubbles ensconced herself far away from the others, in the old carved wood confessional, which had seemed in Donnington's eyes so incongruous and unsuitable an object to form part of the furnishings of a living room.