"I say," said Giles, lowering his head from his horse's back and peering cheerfully through a window, "a spot of bother, is there?" It said a lot for the normal behavior of the family that he did not seem unduly alarmed.

It was a flushed, disheveled, and tired family and its entourage that finally disembarked from the carriage in the driveway of Sir Peter's house in Cavendish Square.

Lady Marian Tallant was never afterward to know how she kept her dignified composure under the onslaught. She tried to administer a graceful hug on each of the twins and lay a cool cheek next to theirs, but each of them squirmed away, threw a "Hello there, Marian," in her direction, and proceeded to busy themselves with removing the pets.

"You won't mind having Brutus here, will you, Marian?" yelled Penelope.

Philip's hind quarters were poking out the doorway as he tried to coax his pet out of the warm interior of the coach.

"Brutus?" she asked with a bright smile.

"The twins' dog," Henry explained.

"A dog," she said, clapping her hands with delicate pleasure. "Little Timothy will be so pleased." Then her face paled as what looked like a ragged pony padded out onto the driveway and proceeded to shake himself awake. All five members of the Roedean group tensed for a moment and emitted a collective sigh of relief when it became obvious that Brutus had not taken a fancy to Marian, or to Peter, who was hovering in the background asking Giles for details of their journey.

"Bottoms up!" a piercing voice ordered from the depths of the carriage. Marian looked as if she would have swooned if she could have trusted her husband to break her fall.