He turned at the door, and the spaniel John turned too.
"I hope to goodness Barter'll be short this morning. I want to talk to
old Fox about that new chaff-cutter."
Round their mistress the three terriers raised their heads; the aged
Skye gave forth a gentle growl. Mrs. Pendyce leaned over and stroked his
nose.
"Roy, Roy, how can you, dear?"
Mr. Pendyce said:
"The old dog's losing all his teeth; he'll have to be put away."
His wife flushed painfully.
"Oh no, Horace--oh no!"
The Squire coughed.
"We must think of the dog!" he said.
Mrs. Pendyce rose, and crumpling the letter nervously, followed him from
the room.
A narrow path led through the home paddock towards the church, and along
it the household were making their way. The maids in feathers hurried
along guiltily by twos and threes; the butler followed slowly by
himself. A footman and a groom came next, leaving trails of pomatum in
the air. Presently General Pendyce, in a high square-topped bowler hat,
carrying a malacca cane, and Prayer-Book, appeared walking between Bee
and Norah, also carrying Prayer-Books, with fox-terriers by their sides.
Lastly, the Squire in a high hat, six or seven paces in advance of his
wife, in a small velvet toque.
The rooks had ceased their wheeling and their cawing; the five-minutes
bell, with its jerky, toneless tolling, alone broke the Sunday hush.
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