Dick grinned. “Like father, like daughter!” he said. “Cheer up, George. Don’t you like your breakfast?”

George was just about to answer crossly when Anne gave an exclamation. “Oh, look at Uncle Quentin! He’s putting mustard on his toast — Aunt Fanny, stop him — he’s just going to eat it!”

Everyone roared with laughter. Aunt Fanny managed to smack her husband’s hand down from his mouth, just as he was putting his toast and mustard up to it, reading a letter at the same time.

“Hey — what’s the matter?” he said, startled.

“Quentin—that’s the second time this month you’ve spread your toast with mustard instead of with marmalade,” said his wife. “Do have a little sense.”

After that everyone became very cheerful. Uncle Quentin laughed at himself, and George saw the funny side and laughed loudly too, which made Timmy bark, and Berta giggled. Aunt Fanny was quite relieved that her husband had done such a silly thing.

“Do you remember when Father poured custard all over his fried fish once?” George said, entering into the talk for the first time. “And he said it was the best egg-sauce he had ever tasted?”

The conversation was very animated after that, and Aunt Fanny felt happier. “You girls can clear away and wash up the breakfast things for Joan,” she said. “Or two of you can and the other can make the beds with me.”

“What about my little dog?” said Berta, suddenly remembering her again. “I haven’t seen her yet, because I was only just in time for breakfast. Where is she?”

“You can go and get her now,” said Aunt Fanny. “We’ve all finished. Are you going to start your work, Quentin?”

“Yes, I am,” said her husband. “So I don’t want any yelling or shouting or barking outside my study door.”

He got up and went out of the room. Berta stood up too. “Where’s the kennel?” she said.

“I’ll show you,” said Anne. “We’ll go and get your dog and introduce it to Timmy. Coming, George?”

“You can bring the dog in here, and we’ll see what Timmy says,” said George, going all gloomy again. “If he doesn’t like the dog — and he won’t — it will have to live out in the kennel.”

“Oh no,” said Berta, at once.

“Well, you don’t want Timmy to eat it, do you?” said George. “He’s very jealous of other dogs in the house. He might go for yours and savage it.”

“Oh no!” said Berta, again, looking upset. “Timmy’s nice. He’s not a fierce dog.”

“That’s all you know!” said George. “Well, I’ve warned you.”

“Come on,” said Anne, pulling at Berta’s sleeve. “Let’s go and fetch Sally. She must be wondering why nobody bothers about her. I bet Timmy won’t mind terribly.”

As soon as the two had gone out, George spoke in Timmy’s ear. “You don’t like strange dogs who want to come and live here, do you, Tim? You’ll growl and snarl like anything, won’t you? Growl your very fiercest! I know you won’t bite but if you could just growl your loudest, that will be enough. Berta will make that Sally-dog live out-of-doors then!”