my knee, but I can't get worked up over cows. Never liked milk."
Renny had got to the door when Nicholas asked suddenly: "How about Piers? Have you spoken to him of the girl yet?"
"Yes. I've told him he must cut out these meetings with her. He never dreamed they'd been seen. He was staggered."
"He seemed all right at dinner-time."
"Oh, we had our little talk two days ago. He's not a bad youngster. He took it very well. There aren't many girls about here—attractive ones—and there's no denying Pheasant is pretty."
Nicholas's brow darkened. "But think what she is. We don't want that breed in the family. Meg would never stand it."
"The girl is all right," said Renny, in his contradictory way. "She didn't choose the manner of her coming into the world. The boys have always played about with her."
"Piers will play about with her once too often."
"That's all right," returned Renny, testily. "He knows I'll stand no nonsense." He went out, shutting the door noisily, as he always did.
Nip was still busy with his bone. Regarding him, Nicholas feared that he would be in for an attack of indigestion if he got any more of the gristle off it. He dragged the treasure from him, and with difficulty straightened himself. Once bent over, it was no joke to rise. What a responsibility a little pet dog was! "No, no, no more gristle. You'll get a tummy-ache."
Nip protested, dancing on his hind legs. Nicholas laid the bone on the piano and wiped his fingers on the tail of his coat. Then the bottle of Scotch and the syphon caught his eye. He took up his glass. "Good Lord, I
