She greeted him now with bright affection. “Well met, Lion! Just going to The Cedars? Give my love to Mrs. Haswell. Any news?”

This question was uttered rather tensely. The Major, bestowing a nod and a small, perfunctory smile upon Mr. Drybeck, replied undramatically: “No, I don't think so.”

“Thank God!” uttered Mrs. Midgeholme, supplying all that was lurking in her husband's tone. “I was of two minds about leaving the house, for I thought she seemed the wee-est bit restless.” She directed a conspiratorial smile at Mr. Drybeck, and admitted him into the mystery, saying archly: “A Happy Event! My treasured Ullapool's first litter!”

Mr. Drybeck could think of nothing better to say than: “Indeed!” and the Major, whose consciousness of his wife's absurdities impelled him to do what he could to justify them, said apologetically: “Delicate little beggars, you know!”

“No, Lion! Not delicate!” said Mrs. Midgeholme. “But with a first litter one can't be too careful. Ullapool will be looking for Mother to come and hold her paw. I must away! Play well, both of you! Come, Peekies! Come to Mother!”

With these words, and a wave of one hand, she set off down the street, leaving the two men to proceed in the opposite direction, towards Wood Lane.

“Extraordinarily intelligent, those Pekes,” said the Major, in a confidential tone. “Sporting, too. You wouldn't think it to look at them, but if you take them on the common they're down every rabbit-hole.”

Mr. Drybeck, schooling his features to an expression of spurious interest, said: “Really?” and tried unavailingly to think of something to add to this unencouraging response.