“Oh, Scooter!  He’s such a darling!  Shall I bring him to see you?” asked Tessa, lifting those wonderful unchildlike eyes of hers to Stella’s.  “You’d love him!  I know you would.  He talks—­almost.  Captain Monck gave him to me.  I never liked him before, but I do now.  I wish he’d come back, and so does Tommy.  Don’t you think he’s a nice man?”

“I don’t know him very well,” said Stella.

“Oh, don’t you?  That’s because he’s so quiet.  I used to think he was surly.  But he isn’t really.  He’s only shy.  Is he, Aunt Mary?” The blue eyes whisked round to Mrs. Ralston and were met by a slightly reproving shake of the head.  “No, but really,” Tessa protested, “he is a nice man.  Tommy says so.  Mother doesn’t like him, but that’s nothing to go by.  The people she likes are hardly ever nice.  Daddy says so.”

“Tessa,” said Mrs. Ralston gently, “we don’t want to hear about that.  Tell us some more about Captain Monck’s mongoose instead!”

Tessa frowned momentarily.  Such nursery discipline was something of an insult to her eight years’ dignity, but in a second she sent a dazzling smile to her hostess, accepting the rebuff.  “All right, Aunt Mary, I’ll bring him to see you to-morrow, shall I?” she said brightly.  “Mrs. Dacre will like that too.  It’ll be something to amuse us when Tommy’s gone.”

Tommy looked across with a grin.  “Yes, keep your spirits up!” he said.  “It’s dull work with the boys away, isn’t it, Aunt Mary?  And Scooter is a most sagacious animal—­almost as intelligent as Peter the Great who coils himself on Stella’s threshold every night as if he thought the bogeyman was coming to spirit her away.  He’s developing into a habit, isn’t he Stella?  You’d better be careful.”

Stella smiled her faint, tired smile.  “I like to have him there,” she said.  “I am not nervous, of course, but he is a friend.”

“You’ll never shake him off,” predicted Tommy.  “He comes of a romantic stock.  Hullo!  Here is his high mightiness with the mail!  Look at the sparkle in Aunt Mary’s eyes!  Did you ever see the like?  She expects to draw a prize evidently.”

He stretched a leisurely arm and took the letter from the salver that the Indian extended.  It was for Mrs. Ralston, and she received it blushing like an eager girl.

“Why does Aunt Mary look like that?” piped Tessa, ever observant.  “It’s only from the Major.  Mother never looks like that when Daddy writes to her.”

“Perhaps Daddy’s letters are not so interesting,” suggested Tommy.

Tessa chuckled.  “Shall I tell you what?  She’d ever so much rather have a letter from the Rajah.  I know she would.  She keeps his locked up, but she never bothers about Daddy’s.  I can’t think what the Rajah finds to write about when they are always meeting.  I think it’s silly, don’t you?”

“Very silly,” said Tommy.  “I hate writing letters myself.  Beastly dull work.”

“Perhaps you will excuse me while I read mine,” said Mrs. Ralston.