"And what do you trade in?" asked the Dean.
"Copra, bêche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl----"
"Mother-of-pearl! How awfully romantic!" cried Peggy.
"We've got a fishery. At any rate, the concession. To work it properly we require capital. That's why I'm here--to turn the concern into a limited company."
"And where is this wonderful place?" asked the Dean.
"Isn't it?" said Oliver. "Like the sigh of a girl in her sleep."
The old Dean shot a swift glance at his nephew; then took his arm and walked on, and looked at the vast mass of the cathedral and at the quiet English garden in its evening shadow.
"Copra, bêche-de-mer, mother-of-pearl, Huaheine," he murmured. "And these strange foreign things are the commonplaces of your life!"
Peggy and Marmaduke lagged behind a little. She pressed his arm.
"I'm so glad you're staying for dinner. I shouldn't like to think you were running away from him."
"I was only afraid of losing my temper and making a scene," replied Doggie with dignity.
"His manners are odious," said Peggy. "You leave him to me."
Suddenly the Dean, taking a turn that brought him into view of the porch, stopped short.
"Goodness gracious!" he cried. "Who in the world is that?"
He pointed to a curious object slouching across the lawn; a short hirsute man wearing a sailor's jersey and smoking a stump of a blackened pipe. His tousled head was bare; he had very long arms and great powerful hands protruded at the end of long sinewy wrists from inadequate sleeves. A pair of bright eyes shone out of his dark shaggy face, like a Dandy Dinmont's. His nose was large and red. He rolled as he walked. Such a sight had never been seen before in the Deanery garden.
"That's my man. Peggy's valet," said Oliver airily. "His name is Chipmunk. A beauty, isn't he?"
"Like master, like man," murmured Doggie.
Oliver's quick ears caught the words intended only for Peggy. He smiled brightly.
"If you knew what a compliment you were paying me, Doggie, you wouldn't have said such a thing."
The man seeing the company stare at him, halted, took his pipe out of his mouth, and scratched his head.
"But--er--forgive me, my dear Oliver," said the Dean. "No doubt he is an excellent fellow--but don't you think he might smoke his pipe somewhere else?"