"
"A picture needing words," would be Teresa's private comment, and as far
as Bertie was concerned she was determined that the words should remain
unspoken.
On the afternoon after Christmas Day Mrs. Yonelet dashed into the drawing-
room, where her hostess was sitting amid a circle of guests and teacups
and muffin-dishes. Fate had placed what seemed like a trump-card in the
hands of the patiently-manoeuvring mother. With eyes blazing with
excitement and a voice heavily escorted with exclamation marks she made a
dramatic announcement.
"Bertie has saved Dora from the elk!"
In swift, excited sentences, broken with maternal emotion, she gave
supplementary information as to how the treacherous animal had ambushed
Dora as she was hunting for a strayed golf ball, and how Bertie had
dashed to her rescue with a stable fork and driven the beast off in the
nick of time.
"It was touch and go! She threw her niblick at it, but that didn't stop
it. In another moment she would have been crushed beneath its hoofs,"
panted Mrs. Yonelet.
"The animal is not safe," said Teresa, handing her agitated guest a cup
of tea. "I forget if you take sugar. I suppose the solitary life it
leads has soured its temper. There are muffins in the grate. It's not
my fault; I've tried to get it a mate for ever so long. You don't know
of anyone with a lady elk for sale or exchange, do you?" she asked the
company generally.
But Mrs. Yonelet was in no humour to listen to talk of elk marriages.
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