'e's my master, and so it will be, I expect, to the end of the chapter."
We had passed between the white posts of a gate and up a curving drive, lined with rhododendron bushes. Beyond stood a low brick house, picked out with white woodwork, very comfortable and pretty. Mrs. Challenger, a small, dainty, smiling figure, stood in the open doorway to welcome us.
"Well, my dear," said Challenger, bustling out of the car, "here are our visitors. It is something new for us to have visitors, is it not? No love lost between us and our neighbours, is there? If they could get rat poison into our baker's cart, I expect it would be there."
"It's dreadful—dreadful!" cried the lady, between laughter and tears. "George is always quarrelling with everyone. We haven't a friend on the countryside."
"It enables me to concentrate my attention upon my incomparable wife," said Challenger, passing his short, thick
