The children liked him. They couldn’t help it. He was so odd and gentle and untidy and forgetful — and yet sometimes unexpectedly fierce. Julian had often told them the story of Tom Killin the bully.

Mr. Luffy had once found Tom bullying a small new boy in the cloakroom, dragging him round and round it by his belt. With a roar like an angry bull, Mr. Luffy had pounced on the big bully, got him by the belt, lifted him up and stuck him firmly on a peg in the cloakroom.

“There you stay till you get someone to lift you down!” Mr. Luffy had thundered. “I can get hold of a belt too, as you can see!”

And then he had stalked out of the cloakroom with the small, terrified boy beside him, leaving the bully hung up high on the peg, quite unable to free himself. And there he had to stay, because not one of the boys who came pouring in from a game of football would lift him down!

“And, if the peg hadn’t given way under his weight, he’d be stuck up there still,” Julian had said with a grin. “Good old Luffy! You’d never think he could be fierce like that, would you?”

Anne loved that story. Mr. Luffy became quite a hero to her after that. She was pleased to sit next to him in the car, and chatter about all kinds of things. The other three were squashed at the back with Timmy on their feet. George firmly prevented him from climbing up on her knee because it was so hot. So he contented himself with trying to stand up with his paws on the window-ledge and his nose over the side.

They stopped about half-past twelve for lunch. Mr. Luffy had indeed provided sandwiches for everyone. And remarkably fine ones they were too, made the evening before by Mrs. Luffy.

“Cucumber, dipped in vinegar! Spam and lettuce! Egg! Sardine! Oooh, Mr. Luffy, your sandwiches are much nicer than ours,” said Anne, beginning on two together, one cucumber and the other Spam and lettuce.

They were all very hungry. Timmy had a bit from everyone, usually the last bite, and watched each sandwich eagerly till his turn came. Mr. Luffy didn’t seem to understand that Timmy had to have the last bite of any sandwich, so Timmy simply took it out of his hand, much to his surprise.

“A clever dog,” he said, and patted him. “Knows what he wants and takes it. Very clever.”

That pleased George, of course. She thought that Timmy was the cleverest dog in the world, and indeed it did seem like it at times. He understood every word she said to him, every pat, every stroke, every gesture. He would be much, much better at keeping an eye on the four children and guarding them than forgetful Mr. Luffy.

They drank ginger-beer and then ate some ripe plums. Timmy wouldn’t have any plums, but he licked up some spilt ginger-beer. Then he snuffled up a few odd crumbs and went to drink at a little stream nearby.