They sat round a little table under the cedar trees amusing themselves with these experiments, and after that Cecily and Mr. Britling and the two small boys entertained themselves by drawing pigs with their eyes shut, and then Mr. Britling and Teddy played hard at Badminton until it was time for tea.  And Cecily sat by Mr. Direck and took an interest in his accident, and he told her about summer holidays in the Adirondacks and how he loved to travel.  She said she would love to travel.  He said that so soon as he was better he would go on to Paris and then into Germany.  He was extraordinarily curious about this Germany and its tremendous militarism.  He’d far rather see it than Italy, which was, he thought, just all art and ancient history.  His turn was for modern problems.  Though of course he didn’t intend to leave out Italy while he was at it.  And then their talk was scattered, and there was great excitement because Herr Heinrich had lost his squirrel.

He appeared coming out of the house into the sunshine, and so distraught that he had forgotten the protection of his hat.  He was very pink and deeply moved.

“But what shall I do without him?” he cried.  “He has gone!”

The squirrel, Mr. Direck gathered, had been bought by Mrs. Britling for the boys some month or so ago; it had been christened “Bill” and adored and then neglected, until Herr Heinrich took it over.  It had filled a place in his ample heart that the none too demonstrative affection of the Britling household had left empty.  He abandoned his pursuit of philology almost entirely for the cherishing and adoration of this busy, nimble little creature.  He carried it off to his own room, where it ran loose and took the greatest liberties with him and his apartment.  It was an extraordinarily bold and savage little beast even for a squirrel, but Herr Heinrich had set his heart and his very large and patient will upon the establishment of sentimental relations.  He believed that ultimately Bill would let himself be stroked, that he would make Bill love him and understand him, and that his would be the only hand that Bill would ever suffer to touch him.  In the meanwhile even the untamed Bill was wonderful to watch.  One could watch him forever.  His front paws were like hands, like a musician’s hands, very long and narrow.  “He would be a musician if he could only make his fingers go apart, because when I play my violin he listens.  He is attentive.”

The entire household became interested in Herr Heinrich’s attacks upon Bill’s affection.  They watched his fingers with particular interest because it was upon those that Bill vented his failures to respond to the stroking advances.

“To-day I have stroked him once and he has bitten me three times,” Herr Heinrich reported.  “Soon I will stroke him three times and he shall not bite me at all....  Also yesterday he climbed up me and sat on my shoulder, and suddenly bit my ear.  It was not hard he bit, but sudden.