Where is he?"
"Ill in bed," answered her ladyship, with a gravity which startled even
Felix himself. "I wish to speak to you about Tommie. You know everybody.
Do you know of a good dog-doctor? The person I have employed so far
doesn't at all satisfy me."
"Professional person?" inquired Felix.
"Yes."
"All humbugs, my dear aunt. The worse the dog gets the bigger the bill
grows, don't you see? I have got the man for you--a gentleman. Knows
more about horses and dogs than all the veterinary surgeons put
together. We met in the boat yesterday crossing the Channel. You
know him by name, of course? Lord Rotherfield's youngest son, Alfred
Hardyman."
"The owner of the stud farm? The man who has bred the famous
racehorses?" cried Lady Lydiard. "My dear Felix, how can I presume to
trouble such a great personage about my dog?"
Felix burst into his genial laugh. "Never was modesty more woefully
out of place," he rejoined. "Hardyman is dying to be presented to your
Ladyship. He has heard, like everybody, of the magnificent decorations
of this house, and he is longing to see them. His chambers are close by,
in Pall Mall. If he is at home we will have him here in five minutes.
Perhaps I had better see the dog first?"
Lady Lydiard shook her head. "Isabel says he had better not be
disturbed," she answered. "Isabel understands him better than anybody."
Felix lifted his lively eyebrows with a mixed expression of curiosity
and surprise. "Who is Isabel?"
Lady Lydiard was vexed with herself for carelessly mentioning Isabel's
name in her nephew's presence.
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