She was thinking about this when her attention was caught by the sudden appearance on the scene of a dog, which appeared to be the result of a misalliance between a hound and a setter. He came bounding into view from behind a clump of azaleas but halted in his tracks at the sight of her, and stood, looking the picture of guilt, with one paw raised, and his tail clipped between his legs, posed for instant flight. He had barely outgrown his puppyhood, and when Kate laughed, and invited him to come to her, he obeyed with all the alacrity of a dog of exuberantly friendly disposition, and gambolled round her, uttering encouraging barks.
The sight of him brought it forcibly home to Kate that, with the exception of Sir Timothy’s aged and obese spaniel bitch, which only left the East Wing when led out by Sir Timothy’s valet for a circumscribed airing, he was the first dog she had seen at Staplewood. It had not previously occurred to her that this was a strange circumstance, but as she patted and stroked the trespasser it did occur to her.
Frustrating his attempts to lick her face, she said laughingly: “Well, sir, and what are you doing here, pray? It’s my belief that you’ve been hunting! Oh, you bad dog!”
The stranger at once acknowledged the truth of this accusation, and deprecated its severity, by flattening his ears, and furiously wagging his lowered tail. Kate laughed again, and said: “What is more, you know very well you have no business here! Be off with you!”
He dashed off immediately, and she thought she was rid of him, until he reappeared, some minutes later, bringing her a peace-offering in the shape of a withered tree branch, which he dragged along the ground, and proudly laid at her feet.
“If you imagine,” Kate said, “that I am going to throw that for you to retrieve you very much mistake the matter! It’s a game I should weary of long before you did! Besides, I know I ought not to encourage you. No, sir! Go home!”
After inviting her to relent, retreating a little way from the branch, and all the time watching it with cocked ears and wagging tail, making short dashes at it, and urging her to participate in his favourite sport by a few yelping barks, he seemed to realize that it was useless to persist, and once more bounded off.
Kate proceeded on her way, wishing that there were dogs at Staplewood which she could take for walks, and recalling, with a reminiscent smile, the three obstreperous dogs owned by the Astleys which had added so much excitement (and embarrassment) to the walks she had taken with the children. In the midst of these reflections she was startled by a gruff voice, which suddenly commanded her to stand and deliver. She looked quickly round, not so much alarmed as vexed, for she had no difficulty in recognizing Torquil’s voice, disguised though it was. It was precisely the sort of schoolboy trick he was all too fond of playing, and she found it unamusing. “For heaven’s sake, Torquil!” she exclaimed. “Must you be so childish?”
He emerged from behind a bush, brandishing a double-barrelled shotgun, and saying gleefully: “I frightened you, didn’t I, coz?”
“No, but you are frightening me now!” Kate said, eyeing the shotgun with misgiving. “Don’t point that thing at me! Is it loaded?”
“Of course it is! And I did frighten you! You jumped nearly out of your skin!”
He shouldered the gun as he spoke, which relieved Kate’s more immediate apprehensions, but she demanded in a sharp voice how he had managed to come by it. “I broke in through the gun room window when the servants were at dinner!” he replied triumphantly. “No one heard me! I stuffed my pockets with cartridges, too. I’m up to everything, ain’t I? If Mama won’t let anyone teach me, I’ll teach myself!”
“Torquil, indeed you must not!” she said. “Do, pray, put it back! If you are so set on learning to shoot I’m persuaded your Mama will relent! I’ll try what I can do to convince her that it is only right that you should be permitted to! This isn’t the way to learn, I promise you! What you should do is to have a target set up, well out of range of the house and the gardens, so that Aunt Minerva need not be disturbed by the bangs.”
“No!” he said, his eyes gleaming, and a rather unpleasant smile curling his beautiful lips. “I’m going to keep it, and I know where, too! Disturbed by the bangs, indeed! That’s a loud one! Doing it rather too brown, my dear mama!”
“Torquil, you should not speak so of your mother!” Kate said earnestly. “It is most improper! Besides, how can you tell that she is not speaking the truth? Many people have the greatest dread of sudden noises, you know—and not hen-hearted people either!”
She was interrupted by her unknown acquaintance, who once more bounded up to her, this time with the desiccated remains of a very dead mole, which he spat at her feet, plainly feeling that it must be acceptable to her. “Ugh!” she exclaimed. “What a horrid animal you are! No, I don’t want it!”
“Where did that dog come from?” asked Torquil shrilly.
“I haven’t the least idea. I suspect him of playing truant. He has been trying to induce me to play with him!”
“I hate dogs! I’ll shoot him!” said Torquil.
“Shoot him?” Kate cried. “You will do no such thing!”
“Oh, yes, I will! He’s a savage dog, and a stray!”
“Don’t be so absurd! He’s not at all savage!” said Kate wrathfully. “Why, he—” She stopped, becoming aware suddenly that the dog was growling at Torquil, bristling, and backing away from him.
She moved forward to soothe him just as Torquil fired. The shot missed both her and the dog by several inches, and its only effects were to send the dog off in a panic, and to shock her into frozen immobility. Torquil sent the second charge after the flying animal. It failed to hit its target, but peppered the trunk of the tree. “Hell and damnation!” swore Torquil furiously.
“How dare you?” demanded Kate, recovering her voice. “Do you realize that if you had shot wide to the left instead of to the right you might have killed me?”
“You shouldn’t have moved,” he said sulkily. “I wasn’t trying to shoot you!”
“Oh, I am so much obliged to you!” Kate flashed.
He started to speak, but broke off as his valet came running up, out of breath, but managing to gasp: “No, no, sir! Now, Master Torquil, give over, do! Let me have that gun!”
Torquil spun round, pointing the gun at him, and saying between his teeth: “Oh, no, you don’t, Badger. Keep off!”
Badger halted abruptly. “Now, you know that’s foolishness, Master Torquil!” he said, in fondly chiding accents. “Give it to me, like a good boy! Whatever must Miss be thinking of you? And whatever would her ladyship say, if she got to hear you’d stolen one of Sir Timothy’s guns? Now, you give it to me quiet-like, and I’ll put it back where it belongs, and no more said!”