Heasant.
"I should have known what to think of them," said Bertie; "if you choose
to excite yourself over other people's correspondence it's your own
fault. Anyhow, I'm going for a doctor."
It was Bertie's great opportunity, and he knew it. His mother was
conscious of the fact that she would look rather ridiculous if the story
got about. She was willing to pay hush-money.
"I'll never open your letters again," she promised. And Clovis has no
more devoted slave than Bertie Heasant.
THE SEVEN CREAM JUGS
"I suppose we shall never see Wilfred Pigeoncote here now that he has
become heir to the baronetcy and to a lot of money," observed Mrs. Peter
Pigeoncote regretfully to her husband.
"Well, we can hardly expect to," he replied, "seeing that we always
choked him off from coming to see us when he was a prospective nobody. I
don't think I've set eyes on him since he was a boy of twelve."
"There was a reason for not wanting to encourage his acquaintanceship,"
said Mrs. Peter. "With that notorious failing of his he was not the sort
of person one wanted in one's house."
"Well, the failing still exists, doesn't it?" said her husband; "or do
you suppose a reform of character is entailed along with the estate?"
"Oh, of course, there is still that drawback," admitted the wife, "but
one would like to make the acquaintance of the future head of the family,
if only out of mere curiosity.
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