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Contents (65)
  1. THE CHRONICLES OF CLOVIS
  2. * * *
  3. SAKI
  4. *
  5. Contents
  6. *
  7. Introduction
  8. *
  9. Esmé
  10. *
  11. The Match-Maker
  12. *
  13. Tobermory
  14. *
  15. Mrs. Packletide's Tiger
  16. *
  17. The Stampeding of Lady Bastable
  18. *
  19. The Background
  20. *
  21. Hermann the Irascible—A Story of the Great Weep
  22. *
  23. The Unrest-Cure
  24. *
  25. The Jesting of Arlington Stringham
  26. *
  27. Sredni Vashtar
  28. *
  29. Adrian
  30. *
  31. The Chaplet
  32. *
  33. The Quest
  34. *
  35. Wratislav
  36. *
  37. The Easter Egg
  38. *
  39. Filboid Studge, the Story of a Mouse that Helped
  40. *
  41. The Music on the Hill
  42. *
  43. The Story of St. Vespaluus
  44. *
  45. The Way to the Dairy
  46. *
  47. The Peace Offering
  48. *
  49. The Peace of Mowsle Barton
  50. *
  51. The Talking-Out of Tarrington
  52. *
  53. The Hounds of Fate
  54. *
  55. The Recessional
  56. *
  57. A Matter of Sentiment
  58. *
  59. The Secret Sin of Septimus Brope
  60. *
  61. "Ministers of Grace"
  62. *
  63. The Remoulding of Groby Lington
  64. *
  65. * * *

From Curzon Street the tiger-skin rug travelled down to the Manor House, and was duly inspected and admired by the county, and it seemed a fitting and appropriate thing when Mrs. Packletide went to the County Costume Ball in the character of Diana. She refused to fall in, however, with Clovis's tempting suggestion of a primeval dance party, at which every one should wear the skins of beasts they had recently slain. "I should be in rather a Baby Bunting condition," confessed Clovis, "with a miserable rabbit-skin or two to wrap up in, but then," he added, with a rather malicious glance at Diana's proportions, "my figure is quite as good as that Russian dancing boy's."

"How amused every one would be if they knew what really happened," said Louisa Mebbin a few days after the ball.

"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Packletide quickly.

"How you shot the goat and frightened the tiger to death," said Miss Mebbin, with her disagreeably pleasant laugh.

"No one would believe it," said Mrs. Packletide, her face changing colour as rapidly as though it were going through a book of patterns before post-time.

"Loona Bimberton would," said Miss Mebbin. Mrs. Packletide's face settled on an unbecoming shade of greenish white.

"You surely wouldn't give me away?" she asked.

"I've seen a week-end cottage near Dorking that I should rather like to buy," said Miss Mebbin with seeming irrelevance. "Six hundred and eighty, freehold. Quite a bargain, only I don't happen to have the money."

*

Louisa Mebbin's pretty week-end cottage, christened by her "Les Fauves," and gay in summertime with its garden borders of tiger-lilies, is the wonder and admiration of her friends.

"It is a marvel how Louisa manages to do it," is the general verdict.

Mrs. Packletide indulges in no more big-game shooting.

"The incidental expenses are so heavy," she confides to inquiring friends.

The Stampeding of Lady Bastable

*

"It would be rather nice if you would put Clovis up for another six days while I go up north to the MacGregors'," said Mrs. Sangrail sleepily across the breakfast-table. It was her invariable plan to speak in a sleepy, comfortable voice whenever she was unusually keen about anything; it put people off their guard, and they frequently fell in with her wishes before they had realized that she was really asking for anything. Lady Bastable, however, was not so easily taken unawares; possibly she knew that voice and what it betokened—at any rate, she knew Clovis.

She frowned at a piece of toast and ate it very slowly, as though she wished to convey the impression that the process hurt her more than it hurt the toast; but no extension of hospitality on Clovis's behalf rose to her lips.

"It would be a great convenience to me," pursued Mrs. Sangrail, abandoning the careless tone. "I particularly don't want to take him to the MacGregors', and it will only be for six days."

"It will seem longer," said Lady Bastable dismally.