‘Terry darling! Darling, darling Terry. Love your Missus, Terry; love your Missus a lot!’

And Terry obeyed, his eager tongue worked busily, he licked her face, her ears, her neck and all the time his stump of a tail wagged furiously.

‘Terry darling, what are we going to do? What’s going to become of us? Oh! Terry darling, I’m so tired.’

‘Now then, miss,’ said a tart voice behind her. ‘If you’ll give over hugging and kissing that dog, here’s a cup of nice hot tea for you.’

‘Oh! Mrs Barnes, how good of you.’

Joyce scrambled to her feet. Mrs Barnes was a big, formidable-looking woman. Beneath the exterior of a dragon she concealed an unexpectedly warm heart.

‘A cup of hot tea never did anyone any harm,’ enunciated Mrs Barnes, voicing the universal sentiment of her class.

Joyce sipped gratefully. Her landlady eyed her covertly.

‘Any luck, miss–ma’am, I should say?’

Joyce shook her head, her face clouded over.

‘Ah!’ said Mrs Barnes with a sigh. ‘Well, it doesn’t seem to be what you might call a lucky day.’

Joyce looked up sharply.

‘Oh, Mrs Barnes–you don’t mean–’

Mrs Barnes was nodding gloomily.

‘Yes–it’s Barnes. Out of work again. What we’re going to do, I’m sure I don’t know.’

‘Oh, Mrs Barnes–I must–I mean you’ll want–’

‘Now don’t you fret, my dear. I’m not denying but that I’d be glad if you’d found something–but if you haven’t–you haven’t. Have you finished that tea? I’ll take the cup.’

‘Not quite.’

‘Ah!’ said Mrs Barnes accusingly. ‘You’re going to give what’s left to that dratted dog–I know you.’

‘Oh, please, Mrs Barnes. Just a little drop. You don’t mind really, do you?’

‘It wouldn’t be any use if I did. You’re crazy about that cantankerous brute. Yes, that’s what I say–and that’s what he is. As near as nothing bit me this morning, he did.’

‘Oh, no, Mrs Barnes! Terry wouldn’t do such a thing.’

‘Growled at me–showed his teeth. I was just trying to see if there was anything could be done to those shoes of yours.’

‘He doesn’t like anyone touching my things. He thinks he ought to guard them.’

‘Well, what does he want to think for? It isn’t a dog’s business to think. He’d be well enough in his proper place, tied up in the yard to keep off burglars. All this cuddling! He ought to be put away, miss–that’s what I say.’

‘No, no, no. Never. Never!’

‘Please yourself,’ said Mrs Barnes. She took the cup from the table, retrieved the saucer from the floor where Terry had just finished his share, and stalked from the room.