"Thank heaven!" said Sam.
He was not comfortable, but comfort just then was not his primary need.
Smith, the bulldog, well satisfied with the way things had happened,
sat down, wheezing slightly, to await developments.
4
He had not long to wait. In a few minutes the hall had filled up
nicely. There was Mr. Mortimer in his shirt-sleeves, Mr. Bennett in his
pyjamas and a dressing-gown, Mrs. Hignett in a travelling costume, Jane
Hubbard with her elephant-gun, and Billie in a dinner dress. Smith
welcomed them all impartially.
Somebody lit a lamp, and Mrs. Hignett stared speechlessly at the mob.
"Mr. Bennett! Mr. Mortimer!"
"Mrs. Hignett! What are you doing here?"
Mrs. Hignett drew herself up stiffly.
"What an odd question, Mr. Mortimer! I am in my own house!"
"But you rented it to me for the summer. At least, your son did."
"Eustace let you Windles for the summer!" said Mrs. Hignett,
incredulously.
Jane Hubbard returned from the drawing-room, where she had been
switching off the orchestrion.
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