"And you took it home with you, the dear creature?"
Mrs. Batterby shook her head. "It followed me right into Merchester; but when I was safe in the town among all the gas-lamps and the people and the traffic, it turned round and scampered back along the road by which we had come. I whistled to it to come back, but it took no notice; and the last I saw of it was its yellow coat disappearing into the darkness."
Miss Skipworth gave a deep sigh. "And you never saw it again?"
"And you never found out who it belonged to?"
A look came into Mrs. Batterby's eyes that was new to Miss Skipworth. "I wouldn't say that. As a matter of fact, I believe I did find out Who it belonged to."
"I suppose it was the sheep-dog of one of the neighbouring farmers," suggested Mrs. Veale.
"Some might suppose so; but I don't," replied Mrs. Batterby, still with that wonderful smile in her sharp grey eyes. "For my part, I believe it was one of the angels of God."
KITTY came into the studio and, dropping on to a stool, said, as she drew the pins from her hat:
She made the assertion with seeming gravity, but her father glanced at her dancing eyes with a mixture of interest and a suspicion of being spoofed; for past experiences of his light-hearted, mischief-loving daughter had taught him to be wary; so he said nothing, but continued to chalk in the rough sketch on the easel.
"Behold in me a heroine of romance!" said Kitty, striking an attitude and regarding the toes of her dainty boots with her head on one side; and her father, as he glanced at her again, noted vaguely her pose and expression for future use; for Kitty served frequently as a model, and her pretty face and svelte figure had appeared in numerous magazines as the heroine of all sorts of stories.
"Father, I have saved a fellow creature's life," she went on. "Told in the language of popular fiction it would run thus: 'A young girl of pleasing appearance was seen going down one of our leading thoroughfares. She was of meek and modest demeanour----'"
"I thought you said the adventure happened to you, Kitty," said Mr. Thorold.
"'The road was crowded with the carriages and motor-cars of the wealthy and noble,'" continued Kitty, disregarding the mild sarcasm; "'the young girl, lost "in maiden meditation, fancy-free," was startled suddenly by a cry of anguished terror. Raising her downcast eyes, she saw a pretty young thing running across the road right in front of an approaching motor-car, from the occupant of which, a lady of mature age and buxom form, the cry had arisen. Without a thought of her own fair young life, the maiden rushed forward, seized the young thing in her arms and carried it in safety to the pavement. The magnificent 2,000-h.p. motor-car pulled up beside her, and the richly dressed lady, with a gasp of relief and admiration, expressed her appreciation of the young girl's heroism, demanded her name and address, and, handing her a card, desired the rescuer to call. The heroine, murmuring something inaudible, blushed sweetly and, making her way through the small but loudly cheering crowd which had collected, modestly disappeared.'"