"Was the pug killed?" asked Anthony.

"No, though the poor thing came back in a bad way. I never knew before
that a pug's tail was so long when it is quite uncurled. But the footman
looked almost worse, for he got notice on the spot. You see he went into
the 'Red Dragon' and left the pug outside."

"And here endeth Aunt Maria and all her works," said Anthony, who wanted
to talk of other things.

"No, not quite."

He looked at her, for there was meaning in her voice.

"In fact," she went on, "so far as I'm concerned it ought to run, 'Here
beginneth Aunt Maria.' You see, I have got to go and live with her
to-morrow."

Anthony stopped and looked at her.

"What the devil do you mean?" he asked.

"What I say. She took a fancy to me and she wants a companion--someone
to do her errands and read to her at night and look after the pug dog
and so forth. And she will pay me thirty pounds a year with my board and
dresses. And" (with gathering emphasis) "we cannot afford to offend her
who have half lived upon her alms and old clothes for so many years.
And, in short, Dad and my mother thought it best that I should go, since
Joyce can take my place, and at any rate it will be a mouth less to feed
at home. So I am going to-morrow morning by the carrier's cart."