THE WHITE MAN’S WAY

Told by Tibbie, the Cat

AS this record of events at Dale End now enters on a phase demanding intelligence of a somewhat high order for its recital, I take up the tale at a point where Dan becomes incoherent. I admit I was greatly interested myself when Minkie, without waiting for Evangeline to do up her blouse, glissaded down the stair rail and rushed the cage into the morning-room. I had heard of mongooses from Tommy Willoughby, who lives in our road, as he had come across them when the Colonel commanded the Galway Blazers at Alexandria. He says they eat crocodiles’ eggs, and are therefore held in high regard by the Egyptians, and the Egyptians, judged by their treatment of cats, are evidently a sensible race. Yet there are no crocodiles’ eggs at Dale End, fresh ones, that is, so I pity this poor stranger if Jim or Mole catches him dining in the hen-house. I tried a young Dorking myself once, and Jim behaved very unfeelingly with a whip.

Dan, of course, tore after Minkie with his mouth open, and his stump of a tail pointing north. I crept in noiselessly, and watched proceedings from beneath a wide and deep leather chair. I could see a thing like a big red rat behind some wooden bars which ran down one side of a soap box. The animal had a sharp muzzle, small paws with fairly useful claws, and a tail that was almost the size of the remainder of its body.

“A mongoose can fight,” I reasoned, “and its huge tail shows that it can turn quickly.” Dan, naturally, took no stock of these essentials. He was nearly beside himself with excitement, and Minkie had to grab him with one hand while she held Captain Stanhope’s letter in the other.

“Do be quiet, Dan!” she cried, shaking him. “Tibbie, where are you?”

“Here,” I meow’d.

“Then listen, the pair of you. Jack writes: ‘Dear Minkie—I send the mongoose. He is very tame, quite a lovable little chap. You can let him run about the house at once if all the doors are closed. After a day or two he can go out into the garden safely, as he will always come back to his box if you leave it open. He is accustomed to my dogs, and there are terriers among them, so make Dan understand that the mongoose wants to play with him when he stands up as if he were going to box with his fore-paws. You may have more trouble with Tib, but she will soon learn to treat him as one of the family. For that matter, Rikki (that is his name) can keep either of them in order if he is not taken by surprise by reason of his friendliness with all my live stock. He will eat most things they eat. When the frost goes, and he can hunt in the garden, he will keep himself. Yours, Jack.’ So there! Just try and behave decently when I introduce Rikki.”

Dan’s growls died away in a sort of groan.

“I’ll have that buck nigger stroking me and saying ‘Good dog’ next,” he muttered bitterly. And then it was all I could do to keep from smiling when I saw Minkie open the cage and take the mongoose out, gripping Dan tightly lest his feelings should overcome him. Will you believe it, that queer-looking beast seemed quite pleased to see Dan! It jumped up and licked his whiskers, and tickled his ears with its little hands, while all poor Dan could say was “Gnar-r!” and roll his eyes wildly to see what it was doing, Minkie’s fingers being like bits of steel. At last, grief and curiosity conquered him. He sniffed it, and Minkie let go. The parrot, from the dining-room, guessed what was happening, and shouted “Hark to him, Boxer! Back to him, Bendigo! At him, boy! At him!” But it was no use. May I never have another night out if Dan and Rikki were not having a friendly wrestle on the hearth-rug in half a minute.

The mongoose had quick eyes. When it rolled over in the game it saw me. I must say it had some sense, too; it seemed to know that I was not given to any dog-foolery, and it squared itself for battle. Dan, thinking to show off, charged full tilt for my chair, so I determined to take a rise out of him. I began to purr, walked straight up to him, with my tail well aloft and the tip twiddling, and began to rub myself against his ribs.

You never saw a dog so taken aback. I’m sure he thought I was crazy, and even Minkie said softly:

“Well, I never! Is the ju-ju beginning to work already?”

Odd, isn’t it? She attributed my little joke to that chunk of ivory in her pocket. Anyhow, the mongoose took no liberties with me. When all is said and done, Dan and I are in one camp, and every sort of rat in the other—but I am surprised at Dan.

Now, parcels turn up so continuously at Christmas time that no one else was aware of Rikki’s arrival until he sat up and begged from Mr. Schwartz while our visitor was drinking his soup. The parrot was watching, and made a horrid noise at the right moment, just as Schwartz looked down and saw a pair of fierce red eyes glaring at him. The mongoose put on his best grin, which made matters worse. Schwartz nearly overturned the dinner-table. I would never have credited six feet of man with being in such a funk. Everybody was glad he expressed his emotions in German—he himself more than the others when he calmed down. Minkie nearly came in for a scolding, but the Guv’nor, who is a real sport, was soon taken by Rikki’s antics, and rather chaffed Schwartz about his alarm.

“That is all very well Grosvenor,” said Schwartz, “but you have not lived where poisonous spiders, centipedes, scorpions, and all sorts of snakes come prowling into the house. I have jumped for my life far too often to be ashamed of a momentary forgetfulness that I was in England. Moreover, I was not aware that Millicent was forming a menagerie.”

“I hope to have a monkey soon,” observed Minkie.

“I’ll take jolly good care you don’t,” said her father. “Monkeys are most mischievous brutes, and they disagree with every other animal near them. By the way, has Dan seen your new pet?”

“Yes. They had quite a romp in the morning-room. You see I had to read Jack’s letter to both Tibbie and Dan before I introduced Rikki.”

“I wish you wouldn’t allude to Captain Stanhope as ‘Jack.’ It argues a familiarity which does not exist.”

“If you are speaking of the young gentleman who hailed you after church to-day, I should say you were justified in that remark,” put in Schwartz.

That showed the man’s bad taste; but it told me something more. Since the morning, his manner towards the Guv’nor had altered. People say I am cruel when I play with a mouse, forgetting that I must practice every tricky twist and sidelong spring or I shall not be able to kill mice at all. However that may be, I can recognize the trait when I see it in others, and Schwartz looked and talked like a man who has another man under his thumb. Although her father may speak sharply to Minkie at times, he very strongly resents such a liberty being taken by an outsider. Perhaps he thought Schwartz regarded the allusion to a monkey as a personal matter. At any rate, when the parrot told Evangeline to go and boil her head there was a laugh, and the incident passed.

Of course, I knew Minkie far too well to believe that she meant to let Schwartz say what he liked, but I did not expect her to drop such a bombshell on the table as she produced after the pudding appeared.

“Talking of monkeys, Mr. Schwartz,” she said when there was a pause in the conversation, “are there many in West Africa?”

“Swarms,” he replied, rather snappy, because he noticed that Minkie gave his name the German sound, which is funnier than our English way of saying it.

“Do they worship them?”

“No, they eat them.”

“Then why should they make one of their most powerful ju-jus like a monkey?”

I imagine that for a moment Schwartz really forgot where he was. His eyes bulged forward, his face grew red, and big veins stood out on his forehead.

“What—do you—know about it?” he gasped, glaring at her as though he wanted to run round the table and wring her neck.

“Nothing,” she answered meekly. “That is why I am asking you.”

“But you have some motive. Such a question is impossible coming from a child. Who told you anything of a ju-ju resembling a monkey?” Schwartz was almost shouting now, and the Old Man gave Mam an imploring glance. Mam tried to press Minkie’s toes under the table, but Minkie just tucked her legs beneath her chair out of harm’s way, and not a soul could catch her eye, because she and Schwartz were looking straight at each other.

“After the affair last night I read about ju-jus and fetishism in the EncyclopÆdia,” she said. “That was very interesting, but I really had in my mind what Jack—I mean Captain Stanhope—told me to-day. Prince John assures him that if the ju-ju you took from his people is not sent back before the spring rains there will be a rebellion in that country. So I felt certain it must be a monkey-headed one, made of ivory, with a little beaded skirt, as that is the most powerful ju-ju known among the Kwantus.”

I wonder Schwartz did not leap at her there and then. His eyes positively glittered. He exercised all his powers to regain his self-control, but his hands shook, and there was a curious tremor in his voice.

“This information is, indeed, valuable to me,” he said, dropping his tone to the ordinary level again. “No, I beg of you, Grosvenor, let Millicent continue. Do I gather that Captain Stanhope is in league with the negro thief who made his way to my room last night?”

“Did I say that?” inquired Minkie, smiling at Schwartz in a way that those who knew her dreaded.

“You implied it. Evidently your military friend enjoys Prince John’s confidence.”

“Oh, if you put it that way you are right. Prince John is staying at the Manor House and Captain Stanhope is using his influence to keep him quiet.”

“He told you that.”

“And I believe him.”

“Did he actually describe the ju-ju to you?”

“No.”

“Then how are you able to hit off its appearance so exactly?”

“Because I’m a good guesser. Isn’t that so, father dear?”

The Guv’nor didn’t seem to realize that Minkie had deliberately pulled him into the conversation. He was dreadfully upset, and he tried to cover his confusion by tackling her on the question of disobedience.

“I told you to have nothing further to do with the Manor House people,” he said, and his voice was very harsh and stern, “yet it is evident you met and talked with young Stanhope to-day without my cognizance.”

“Yes. I met him near the Four Lanes. You said, father dear, that we were not to exchange postcards and winks, and that was all.”

“You knew quite well that I meant you to cut the acquaintance entirely. Millicent, what has come to you that you should disregard my wishes in this way?”

“I am very sorry, dad. I did not think I was doing wrong. I promise now that I shall not speak to Captain Stanhope again until you give me permission. If I had really meant to disobey you I would hardly have told you so openly at table. My idea was that you would like to know all about this ju-ju which Mr. Schwartz has lost, and the queer effect it may have in causing a West African war.”

Poor Mam was nearly crying, and Dorothy’s face was a study; she was terrified lest Minkie should blurt out the fact that she, too, was at the Four Lanes. As it happened, Minkie could not have mentioned a worse locality. It was the Four Lanes warren which first led to the quarrel between old Mr. Stanhope and the Guv’nor. There was a lawsuit about the shooting rights, which ought to have gone with our estate, but Mr. Stanhope’s lawyers made out a flaw in a copyhold, whatever that may mean, and we lost. I wonder why men invented law. If they followed our example, and fought in the good old way, our Old Man would now own that warren.

There might have been more unpleasant things said had not Polly yelled suddenly:

“Fire! Murder! Per-lice! ’E dunno where ’e are!”

The mongoose had just discovered that it was the parrot who was growling nasty remarks at Evangeline because she took the nuts from the sideboard without giving him any. Naturally, being a newcomer, Rikki was surprised, so he had jumped on to the window-sill to have a look at this queer bird. Minkie was told to put the mongoose in his box, as Evangeline declared she wouldn’t touch such an awful objec’, not for a million pounds.

While Minkie was out of the room the Guv’nor tried to recover his good humor.

“You must not pay heed to my little girl’s way of expressing herself, Schwartz,” he said. “We have rather encouraged her to be outspoken, and she has always been remarkably intelligent. Try that port. You will find it good, a ’74, the last bottle, worse luck.”

“Here’s to Holly Lodge and its owner, his wife and his charming daughters. May we all be sitting here this time next year!” cried Schwartz, lifting his glass and glancing at Dolly.

It was a pleasant enough toast in its way, but again I had that feeling under the fur that the words meant a lot more than they expressed. Dan naturally said he saw nothing particular in them, but you will find I was right. I noticed, too, that Schwartz drank two glasses of the wine in quick succession, though he had declined a liqueur the previous evening. I mentioned this to Dan, but he only growled:

“You see a sparrow behind every bush. Schwartz is a rotter, but he is behaving himself. Why, I have known Jim shift a quart of beer after he had said he wasn’t thirsty, just because Mam told him to get some lemonade.”

“Have you ever picked a bone after turning up your nose at a dog biscuit?” I asked.

“Yes, but there might have been cat in the biscuit.”

I turned my back on him. He thinks that sort of low-down humor is clever, and he hurries away to tell Bob how he scored off me. Of course, he made tracks to the stable the moment dinner was ended, with the result that he missed quite a thrilling episode.

Mam and Dorothy went to the drawing-room, but Schwartz, who was listening intently, heard Minkie go into the morning-room, whither I had followed her to study the mongoose at leisure. After a minute or two, he made the excuse that he wanted to show the Guv’nor a letter which he had left upstairs, and he came out, though I heard Poll warbling “Kiss me and call me your darling.”

He closed the door, walked across the hall to the foot of the stairs, and tip-toe’d back to the morning-room. Minkie looked at me, and I looked at Minkie.

“Now for it!” she whispered.

Schwartz entered. He had the glint in his eyes which I feel when I have a young thrush within range of a spring. He never turned his head, but kept glaring at Minkie while he fumbled with the lock till the door was shut. Then he crept, rather than walked, towards her.

“Now, you young devil!” he hissed, “give it to me, or I’ll strangle you.”

That was the right opening; I began to feel nervous, and when I say “nervous” I don’t mean “frightened,” like Evangeline is when the villain says something of the sort in the story she reads each week in the Society Girl’s Companion; in fact, if she begins to wash up after finishing the instalment she is sure to smash something. No; that is the mistake Dan always makes. Had he been in the room during the next few minutes he would have alarmed the house by his stupid barking, because any one could see that Schwartz meant mischief. Certainly Dan would have bitten him first, whereas I hid under the leather chair. Chacun À son gout, as mademoiselle used to say when she saw Minkie kissing Bob’s nose—my motto is “Defence, not defiance.” But the species of nervousness I experienced was shared by Minkie. It was a kind of spiritual exaltation, a bracing of the muscles, a tuning of the heart-strings which carries one through a desperate crisis.

For Schwartz was primed with wine, and maddened by the knowledge that he had been tricked by a girl, a girl who was able to survey his mean soul and appraise its miserable insufficiency. He thought to frighten her by letting the beast in him peep forth at her. Even if she screamed for protection, he counted on either securing the ju-ju or learning its whereabouts before her father could come to her rescue. Then he would explain that he was joking, while Minkie would receive scant sympathy when it became known that she had kept mum as to her possession of an article which he prized so greatly. Of course, he was sure she had the ju-ju, and Minkie did not commit the error of pretending she did not understand him.

“Even if you were able to strangle me I could not give you what I have not got,” said she, very quietly, standing straight, with her hands behind her back. I noticed that the fingers of her right hand were lightly resting in those of her left, with thumbs crossed, and that showed she was not going to struggle. I was somewhat surprised, because with those wiry hands of hers I have seen her bend a stout poker across her knee, and she could vault astride Bob’s back from the ground by taking a twist of his mane in them. She has done that several times since she had an argument with Dolly one day last November, when she proved that Sir Walter Scott made young Lochinvar perform a remarkable gymnastic feat in the lines:

It was evident that young Lochinvar’s right leg must have gone clean over the fair lady’s picture hat, so I think that the poet meant “clung”; but, anyhow, what I want to convey now is that Minkie could have landed on Schwartz’s shoulders and tapped the bald spot on his head with one of the fire-irons at one and the same instant if she had meant to fight.

Her attitude seemed to me to be rather foolhardy. No matter what you may say about the triumph of mind over matter I believe in having the brute force side of the thesis ready for action if necessary. Schwartz, however, thought she was afraid, which proves conclusively that he was a man of limited ideas, even if he were rich as Croesus. He did not believe her, though a gentleman should always pretend to believe a lady, even though he knows she is telling a fib. His mouth opened and he held his tongue between his teeth. He came nearer, carrying his hands up like a hawk’s talons. This was partly pantomime and partly real. The pantomime was essential in Dale End; had Minkie been in the Kwantu bush she might have seen more of the reality; but then, under the latter conditions, she would have shown Schwartz a savate kick which I taught her, and he must have bitten off the end of his tongue in learning it. One acquires a lot of capital dodges, I assure you, when defending the top of a wall on a dark night.

But she stood there, quite motionless, a slight, elegant figure in white Surah silk, with black stockings and nice shiny shoes, on which were a pair of her Grandmother Faulkner’s paste buckles, which Mam had just given her as a Christmas present. Her flaxen hair was tied with a ribbon of almost the same tint, and she wore a strip of the ribbon as a waist-belt. I wish somebody could have drawn her as she faced Schwartz, who was well dressed, of course, but whose leering face was like the satyr’s in our garden. And he had called her a devil! Well, tastes differ, as I have remarked previously. Being only a cat, I don’t know much about these things, but my money goes on Schwartz if there is a prize competition for a model of old Hoof and Horns.

I have taken my time over this part of the story to enable you to realise the suspense, the wolfish aspect, the stealthy threatening of Schwartz’s advance towards Minkie. Obviously, the mere clock ticking was short enough.

“You lie!” he breathed again, so close that his wine-laden breath was offensive to her. Then he grasped her arms, and began to pass his coarse hands down her body. I am telling you the simple truth. He actually searched her clothes, pressing them to her limbs to make sure that his precious ju-ju was not secreted somewhere about her. I held my breath, and I really had it in my mind to jump up at his staring eyes, when I chanced to catch Minkie’s contemptuous smile. Then I knew that she had fooled Schwartz again, had, in fact, expected him to adopt some such futile dodge, and had put the fetish in a secure hiding-place.

Disappointment nearly drove the man off his balance. He was so enraged that he shook her violently.

“You must give it up,” he said hoarsely. “I am determined to have it, now, this instant.”

Minkie remained quite passive.

“If I call my father he will horsewhip you,” she said coolly.

“Give me that ju-ju,” he almost whimpered, such was his fury.

“You have satisfied yourself that I have not got it,” she answered. “Take your hands off me, or it will be bad for you. If you ever dare to touch me again, you will never see it. If you try to behave as decently as you know how, I may, perhaps, discuss terms.”

It was ludicrous to watch his change of attitude. From a bold lion he became a cringing jackal. He almost wept with relief at the mention of the word “terms.”

“Anything you like,” he cried eagerly. “What do you want—money, diamonds, anything?—but I must have it now.”

The man was crazy, talking that way to a girl just turned fourteen. Had she been ten years older she might have listened; twenty, and she might have closed the deal straight off. But Minkie was young enough to be chivalrous, and she meant to make Schwartz eat mud.

“You cannot obtain it now,” she said, speaking as calmly as she does to Mole when she wants the tennis net fixed. “You had better cool down rapidly, because you will not see your ju-ju until New Year’s Day—”

“What!” he yelled, forgetting himself and trying to grab her again. This time Minkie adopted tactics which I fully approved of. She sprang back and sideways, placing my chair between Schwartz and herself. Then she seized a heavy glass encriÈre.

“One inch nearer and you receive this in the face,” she said. “And I never miss,” she added, seeing that Schwartz halted.

Of course, I had to move quickly, too; as I passed Rikki’s box I saw him gazing out with such a puzzled expression. It did not occur to me previously that he understands Hindustani better than English, which is a pity, as we never before have had any real excitement like this at Holly Lodge. It was as good as a play to see Schwartz glowering at Minkie, and estimating the effect of a two-pound inkpot if applied to his nose with a velocity of X miles per second. Talk about motor traps and policemen’s stop watches—he made a lightning calculation I can assure you, and it was dead against any forward movement.

“Suppose we abandon hostilities and discuss matters reasonably,” he said, with another violent effort at self-control. “To begin with, I can compel you to hand over my property.”

“It is not your property. You stole it. It belongs to the Kwantu tribe. If I were to act with strict honesty, I should hand it to Prince John.”

Schwartz fell into the net like the silliest bunny that ever ran for a hedge. He assumed instantly that Minkie could be bribed.

“You are too young to judge of such matters,” he sneered. “Moreover, I have only to appeal to your father—”

“You will find him in the dining-room.”

Poor Schwartz! I was beginning to pity him. Even the mongoose saw the joke, and grinned, because we hunting animals know all about bluff—we meet with lots of it down our way. He determined that it was advisable to deal with Minkie herself, which was precisely what she wanted. You see, these rich men think money will buy anything.

“Why New Year’s Day?” he asked anxiously, while I noticed that his collar was limp with perspiration. “Why not to-night? I have plenty of money in notes. And if more is needed, I would never dream of stopping a cheque once it is written.”

“I cannot give you the ju-ju before this day week,” said Minkie. “I have my reasons, and I decline to state them. Nor can I tell you my terms until two or three days have passed. But I want £50 now for expenses. If you have not that sum with you, I can wait until to-morrow or the day after.”

Schwartz gazed at her with amazement. He was burning to ask her a dozen questions, but Dan came scratching and sniffing at the door, so they might be interrupted any moment. The man dared not forego the opportunity of clinching the bargain, yet his greed kept him back.

“Fifty pounds!—expenses!“ he protested. ”Why, how much do you expect me to pay for the thing itself?”

“No matter,” said Minkie. “I can easily get the money elsewhere.”

He knew she meant the Manor House, and that frightened him. Dan kept scratching away, and saying: “Let me in! What’s on? Bones and cleavers, open the door!” Schwartz produced a pocketbook, and pulled out a note.

“There!” he cried, “will that suffice?”

It was fifty pounds all right, but Minkie did not trouble to examine it.

“Yes,” she said. “I can change it at the bank if necessary.”

“And you promise—”

“You shall have your ju-ju on New Year’s Day.”

“But I insist on learning something further as to its safety. How can you be sure Prince John—”

Just then Mam heard Dan damaging our best paint; she crossed the hall and flung the door wide.

“This wretched dog—” she began, but stopped short on seeing Schwartz and Minkie. Schwartz swallowed something, and grinned like a death’s head.

“This mongoose is an extraordinary creature,” he said. “I have taken quite a fancy to him....”

He rejoined the Guv’nor, as he had the letter in his pocketbook all the time. Dolly was playing and singing “Du, du liegst mir im Herzen,” so Mam thought she had a good chance of explaining matters to Minkie.

“I hope you will be nice to Mr. Schwartz if he takes an interest in your pets,” she said. “You annoyed your father considerably during dinner by your unwarrantable hostility to our guest. I am more than surprised at you.”

“Please forgive me, mother dear. And you might tell Dad that I have cleared away all misunderstandings between Mr. Schwartz and myself.”

“Misunderstandings, child! How can you possibly use such a word where a gentleman is concerned of whom you have seen so little?”

“There are some people whom one gets to know very quickly. Do you remember the burglar whom our policeman caught as he was climbing the rectory wall? Those two had never seen each other before, yet we met them coming down the road arm-in-arm.”

Mam laughed. “You are always ready enough to turn a difficult conversation when it suits your purpose. Why don’t you show equal tact in your remarks to Mr. Schwartz? I would not ask this, Millicent, if I had not a special reason.”

“Tell me, mummy dear. Is Mr. Schwartz going to lend Dad some money?”

“You certainly are the most amazing child!” cried Mam. “Who told you that?”

“No one. I just imagined it; and I will tell you why. One day last week I saw that Dad was awfully cut up about something he read in the paper. It was about the Kwantu Mines, Limited. I know, because I picked up the paper in order to see what was worrying Dad.”

“But you shouldn’t,” said Mam, though her lips quivered a little. Now, there is not a person alive who can be more affectionate than Minkie with those whom she loves. I like being petted myself, so I know. She put her arms round her mother and whispered:

“I hope Dad and you won’t fret. I am sure everything will come right in the end. Don’t you think it is a sign of something out of the common going to happen when this black prince comes to our house, a man from the very place which is causing Dad so much trouble?”

While Mam searched for her handkerchief Dan muttered to me:

“A pretty game you’ve been having here while I was looking after affairs outside. What has Schwartz been up to? And what good is a cat, anyhow?”

That put my back up.

“Let me tell you that if you had been in this room during the past five minutes you would have made a beastly fool of yourself and spoiled the finest bit of sport we’ve ever had,” said I.

He was so tickled with conceit that he sneezed.

“Go away and play, pussy,” he sniggered. “You me-ow while I act. Why, I’ve been chasing niggers all over the place.”

That startled me. Bad as he is, Dan never lies.

“Chasing niggers!” I cried. “Is there more of ’em?”

“I counted no less than five,” he growled, strutting about in great style, and rather alarming the mongoose. I assure you his news so upset me that I paid no attention to what Minkie and Mam were saying until I heard Minkie mention Jack’s name.

“I wish you could persuade Dad to see Captain Stanhope,” she said. “The merest little note would bring him here to-morrow, and there can be no doubt he would give Dad some very useful information.”

“Ah, my dear, if I had my way things would be different,” sighed Mam; then, feeling that discussion would do no good, she bustled out, bidding Minkie turn the gas low and come to the drawing-room.

Dan was bursting to get Minkie outside and let her know about the suspicious characters who were prowling round our house, but she wouldn’t listen to him.

“Oh, be quiet,” she commanded. “I want to do a sum.”

First, she took the crisp note out of her pocket and looked to see if it was really fifty pounds.

“Let me reckon up,” she said then. “I began yesterday with a crooked sixpence. I gave the porter a shilling out of Schwartz’s fiver for telling me Jack arrived by the 4.20. So now I have fifty-four pounds, nineteen shillings and sixpence. Good old ju-ju! Keep it going! I am pretty strong in arithmetic, but if you maintain that rate of increase until New Year’s Day, I shall lose count. Anyhow, they’ll want a bigger bank at Dale End. Now, Dan, I’m ready. What is it?”

But, before she crossed the hall, she rescued the ju-ju from its hiding-place at the back of the grandfathers clock.

[Pg 104-107]