country as pretty as any that can be found in the island, and the train, as if in appreciation of this fact, does not hurry over the journey. It was late afternoon by the time the chicken farmers reached their destination.
The arrangements for the carrying of luggage at Lyme Regis border on the primitive. Boxes are left on the platform, and later, when he thinks of it, a carrier looks in and conveys them down into the valley and up the hill on the opposite side to the address written on the labels. The owner walks. Lyme Regis is not a place for the halt and maimed.
Ukridge led his band in the direction of the farm, which lay across the valley, looking through woods to the sea. The place was visible from the station, from which, indeed, standing as it did on the top of a hill, the view was extensive.
Halfway up the slope on the other side of the valley the party left the road and made their way across a spongy field, Ukridge explaining that this was a short cut. They climbed through a hedge, crossed a stream and another field, and after negotiating a difficult bank topped with barbed wire, found themselves in a kitchen garden.
Ukridge mopped his forehead and restored his pince-nez to their original position, from which the passage of the barbed wire had dislodged them.
"This is the place," he said. "We have come in by the back way. It saves time. Tired, Millie?"
"No, dear, thank you."
"Without being tired," said Garnet, "I am distinctly ready for tea. What are the prospects?"
"That'll be all right," said Ukridge, "don't you worry. A most competent man, of the name of Beale, and his wife are in charge at present. I wrote to them telling them that we were coming to-day. They will be ready for us."
They were at the front door by this time. Ukridge rang the bell. The noise reëchoed through the house, but there were no answering footsteps. He rang again. There is no mistaking the note of a bell in an empty house. It was plain that the most competent man and his wife were out.
"Now what are you going to do?" said Garnet.
Mrs. Ukridge looked at her husband with quiet confidence.
Ukridge fell back on reminiscence.
"This," he said, leaning against the door and endeavoring to button his collar at the back, "reminds me of an afternoon in the Argentine. Two other men and myself tried for three quarters of an hour to get into an empty house, where there looked as if there might be something to eat, and we'd just got the door open when the owner turned up from behind a tree with a shot-gun. It was a little difficult to explain. There was a dog, too. We were glad to say good-by."
At this moment history partially repeated itself. From the other side of the door came a dissatisfied whine, followed by a short bark.
"Halloo," said Ukridge, "Beale has a dog."
"And the dog," said Garnet, "will have us if we're not careful. What are you going to do?"
"Let's try the back," said Ukridge. "We must get in. What right," he added with pathos, "has a beastly mongrel belonging to a man I employ to keep me out of my own house? It's a little hard. Here am I, slaving to support Beale, and when I try to get into my house, his infernal dog barks at me. But we will try kindness first. Let me get to the keyhole. I will parley with the animal."
He put his mouth to the keyhole and roared the soothing words "Goo' dog!" through it. Instantly the door shook as some heavy object hurled itself against it. The barking rang through the house.
"Kindness seems to be a drug in the market," said Garnet. "Do you see your way to trying a little force?"
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Ukridge, rising. "We'll go round and get in at the kitchen window."
"And how long are we to stay there? Till the dog dies?"
"I never saw such a man as you," protested Ukridge. "You have a perfect mania for looking on the dark side. The dog won't guard the kitchen door. We shall manage to shut him up somewhere."
"Oh," said Garnet.
"And now let's get in and have something to eat, for goodness' sake."
The kitchen window proved to be insecurely latched. Ukridge flung it open and they climbed in.
The dog, hearing the sound of voices, raced back along the passage and flung himself at the door. He then proceeded to scratch at the panels in the persevering way of one who feels that he is engaged upon a business at which he is a specialist.
Inside the kitchen, Ukridge took command.
"Never mind the dog," he said, "let it scratch."
"I thought," said Garnet, "we were going to shut it up somewhere?"
"Go out and shut it into the dining room, then. Personally, I mean to have some tea. Millie, you know how to light a fire. Garnet and I will be collecting cups and things. When that scoundrel Beale arrives, I shall tear him limb from limb. Deserting us like this! The man must be a thorough fraud. He told me he was an old soldier. If this was the sort of discipline they used to keep in his regiment, I don't wonder that the service is going to the dogs. There goes a plate! How is the fire getting on, Millie? I'll chop Beale into little bits. What's that you've got there, Garny, old horse? Tea? Good! Where's the bread? There! another plate. Look here, I'll give that dog three minutes, and if it doesn't stop scratching that door by then, I'll take the bread knife and go out and have a soul-to-soul talk with it. It's a little hard. My own house, and the first thing I find in it when I arrive is somebody else's beastly dog scratching holes in the doors. Stop it, you beast!"
The dog's reply was to continue his operations piu mosso.
Ukridge's eyes gleamed behind their glasses.
"Give me a good large jug," he said with ominous calm.
He took the largest of the jugs from the dresser and strode with it into the scullery, whence came the sound of running water. He returned carrying the jug in both hands. His mien was that of a general who sees his way to a master stroke of strategy.
"Garny, old horse," he said, "tack on to the handle, and when I give the word fling wide the gates. Then watch that beast beyond the door get the surprise of its lifetime."
Garnet attached himself to the handle as directed. Ukridge gave the word. They had a momentary vision of an excited dog of the mongrel class framed in the open doorway, all eyes and teeth; then the passage was occupied by a spreading pool, and indignant barks from the distance told that the mongrel was thinking the thing over in some safe retreat.
"Settled his hash," said Ukridge complacently. "Nothing like resource, Garnet, my boy. Some men would have gone on letting a good door be ruined."
"And spoiled the dog for a ha-porth of water," said Garnet. "I suppose we shall have to clean up that mess some time."
"There you go," said Ukridge, "looking on the dark side. Be an optimist, my boy, be an optimist. Beale and Mrs. Beale shall clean that passage as a penance. How is the fire, Millie?"
"The kettle is just boiling, dear."
Over a cup of
