"A call?"
"Yes."
"On mother?"
"On you."
The girl's eyes widened.
"On me?"
"To make inquiries."
"What about?"
"Your dog."
"I don't understand."
"Well, I thought—result of the excitement—and nerve-strain—I thought he might be upset."
"Because he ran away, do you mean?"
"Yes."
"You thought he would have a nervous break-down because he ran away?"
"Dangerous traffic," explained George. "Might have been run over. Reaction. Nervous collapse."
Woman's intuition is a wonderful thing. There was probably not an alienist in the land who, having listened so far, would not have sprung at George and held him down with one hand while with the other he signed the necessary certificate of lunacy. But Molly Waddington saw deeper into the matter. She was touched. As she realised that this young
