sometimes in default was a brutality of which he wasincapable.
"I am exceedingly sorry," he said gently, "for your distress. I wish Icould help you."
"But you are helping me," she cried. "You have taken such a load off mymind. I daresay in time I'll get used to being without him. But he wassuch a--chum."
As she knelt almost at his feet, with her arms about the ugly brute fromwhich she was so loth to separate, she presented a picture at once soappealing and pathetic that Mr Musgrave found himself struggling withall manner of absurd impulses in his very earnest and not unnaturaldesire to see her grief change to gladness, and the tears melt away insmiles. He had the same feeling of uncomfortable distress in witnessingher trouble as he experienced over the lesser but more assertivetroubles of John Sommers. Her tears hurt him.
"I suppose," he said, with a certain halting indecision of manner, "wecouldn't, perhaps, find a home for him somewhere not too far away--somewhere, in fact, near enough for you to see him occasionally? Iwonder... Perhaps that might be managed."
Peggy brightened visibly and looked up at him with such a light of hopein her eyes that Mr Musgrave, from thinking that this might be managed,finally decided that it must be managed; that he, in short, must manageit. This resolve once firmly established in his mind, his thoughtsbusied themselves with ways and means for the safe and convenientdisposal of Diogenes. But the only way which presented itself was sodisturbing to Mr Musgrave that, after first considering it, he pausedto reflect, and looking upon Diogenes, and having very clearly in mindthe great personal inconvenience that would result from such a course,he promptly rejected it. Having rejected it, finally, as he believed,he paused again for reflection; and looking this time not upon Diogenesbut straight into those clear, hopeful eyes, which seemed to look to himwith such a perfect confidence in his ability to solve this difficultythat to disappoint her expectation seemed cruel after having raised herhopes, Mr Musgrave felt it imperative on him to reconsider the matter.After a somewhat protracted silence, he said: "Do you think it would bepossible for me to keep him?"
Peggy was so amazed at this proposal, which in her wildest moments shehad not conceived, that she released Diogenes and stood up slowly,fixing upon John Musgrave a look so charged with gratitude andadmiration and an emotion which partook of neither of these qualities,but which was so expressive of itself as to move Mr Musgrave to adesire to house Diogenes, or any other beast, in order to oblige her.She approached and put her two hands into his, and, oddly, John Musgravedid not feel embarrassed. He held the small hands firmly, and lookedgravely into the earnest face.
"I never thought of that," she said. "I never thought of anything halfso good as that. I don't know what to say... It doesn't seem fair tolet you do it. I expect he'll be an awful nuisance for a time."
Mr Musgrave was very certain that he would be a nuisance; but he waswarming to the business, and felt equal to any undertaking with thatsoft look in the grey eyes melting his reluctance and the small handsgripping his with such eager warmth.
"I don't suppose we should get through without a little trouble," heanswered, smiling. "It will certainly be necessary to keep him for someweeks on the chain. I could take him for a run every day--in the earlymorning, and after dusk. The greatest difficulty I foresee is in thematter of his identity. I should not like to annoy Mr Chadwick. Itseems acting not quite properly towards him."
"Uncle would be as grateful as I am," Peggy assured him, "if he knew.He hated the thought of having Diogenes destroyed. Couldn't we disguisehim somehow--paint him? I believe he could be dyed."
"I'll take him into Rushleigh and see what can be contrived," hereplied. "And, anyway, if necessary he can be sent away later. For thepresent I will adopt him. And--and any time you wish to see him you cancome in and take him off the chain."
Peggy grasped his hands more tightly.
"You are so kind, so very kind," she said. "I will never forget. Iwish there was something I could do for you."
She looked so earnest in expressing this wish so really anxious to proveher gratitude, that Mr Musgrave felt himself sufficiently rewarded forthe service he was rendering. The charge of a dog, even of a dog withsuch a record as Diogenes, was after, all no superhuman undertaking.
"You overestimate the service," he said. "There is really no need foryou to feel under any obligation."
But Peggy would not allow this.
"Once," she said slowly, taking her hands from his and moving a pace ortwo away, "you asked me to do something to oblige you--and I refused;refused because I saw no reason, I told you, for complying with therequest." She suddenly smiled as she met his quiet scrutiny, and made aslight gesture with her hand in the direction of the dog. "You mightquite as aptly apply that argument in this case; there really isn't anyreason why you should oblige me now."
"Not so," he interrupted. "The reason lies in my wish to oblige you."Peggy nodded.
"That is a reason I also have discovered," she said. "I can give thepromise now which you asked me for on Christmas Eve--do you remember?...about the smoking... because the argument I used then doesn't hold anylonger. I wish," she added, "that I had given the promise at the time."
"Thank you," John Musgrave returned quietly.
It was a curious fact, in consideration of how objectionable thepractice of smoking in women had once appeared to Mr Musgrave, that heshould experience so little triumph in this victory. He had seen Peggysmoke on two separate occasions, and, although the sight had pleased himill, he had reluctantly admitted that with some women the habit, ifdeplorable, was not unbecoming. The reason Peggy allowed for making thepromise, rather than the promise itself, gave John Musgrave pleasure.
Peggy took an affectionate farewell of the wondering Diogenes, enjoiningon him the necessity for behaving with the utmost propriety; and then,while Mr Musgrave held the door cautiously ajar, she slipped out afterhim through the narrow opening and left Diogenes, indignantlyprotesting, on the other side.
Peggy returned home with a heart so lightened that she found itdifficult to dissemble before the Chadwicks and wear a mien becoming tothe double tragedy that had robbed Mrs Chadwick of her pampered pet andherself of her daily companion.
"I am awfully sorry, Peggy," her uncle said, putting an arm through hersas they went in to lunch together, "about Diogenes. I know you willmiss him a lot. But your aunt was so upset there was nothing else forit. He had to be got rid of."
"He had to be got rid of," echoed Peggy, and lifted a pair ofreproachful eyes to his face. "You might have thought of a kinder wayout," she said. "You could quite easily have found him a home, and havegot rid of him that way. Poor Diogenes!"
"I wish I had," he said. "But Ruby worried me. There wasn't time tothink... Well, his troubles are over now, poor brute!"
Whereat Peggy involuntarily smiled. Diogenes' troubles, like JohnMusgrave's, were, she realised, only just beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
The troubles of Mr Musgrave as the owner of a bull-dog began forthwithand multiplied exceedingly. Diogenes was driven into Rushleigh thatafternoon in the car, and subsequently, to his secret disgust, returneddisguised as a brindle, which disguise he diligently sought to removewith so much success that the journeys to Rushleigh became periodic, andDiogenes underwent chameleon-like changes in the intervals.
A large dog-kennel and brand-new chain were purchased, and, save whenMr Musgrave took Diogenes for the daily run, and Peggy, availingherself of his permission, slipped in through the tradesmen's entranceand released her excited pet, Diogenes spent his days in complaininginactivity, with ample time in which to reflect upon his misdeeds.
The arrival of Diogenes affected some change in Mr Musgrave'shousehold. Eliza promptly gave notice. She would, she informed thesurprised master of the establishment, as soon remain in a place with anelephant. Martha, who would have suffered elephants and otherundesirable pets rather than quit Mr Musgrave's service, sought topropitiate Diogenes, and,
being a disciple of the famous explorer whophrased the axiom that the stomach governs the world, she carried bonesand other delicacies to Diogenes' kennel, to the detriment of hisfigure, and so won his affections that after Peggy, whom he adored, andMr Musgrave, to whom he became speedily attached, Martha ranked as hisvery good friend.
The chauffeur had his doubts about Diogenes, and he nursed darker doubtsin regard to his employer. To take a white bull-dog into Rushleigh andfetch home a brindle that was constantly changing its coat occurred toKing is a highly suspicious circumstance.
"There'll be a police case over that dog," he remarked to Martha. "Youmark my words. I've known similar