"Edwin comes to-day," said Mrs. Ukridge.

　　"And the Derricks," said Ukridge, sawing at the bread in his energeticway. "Don't forget the Derricks, Millie.""No, dear. Mrs. Beale is going to give us a very nice dinner. Wetalked it over yesterday.""Who is Edwin?" I asked.

　　We were finishing breakfast on the second morning after my visit tothe Derricks. I had related my adventures to the staff of the farm onmy return, laying stress on the merits of our neighbours and theirinterest in our doings, and the Hired Retainer had been sent off nextmorning with a note from Mrs. Ukridge inviting them to look over thefarm and stay to dinner.

　　"Edwin?" said Ukridge. "Oh, beast of a cat.""Oh, Stanley!" said Mrs. Ukridge plaintively. "He's not. He's such adear, Mr. Garnet. A beautiful, pure-bred Persian. He has takenprizes.""He's always taking something. That's why he didn't come down withus.""A great, horrid, /beast/ of a dog bit him, Mr. Garnet. And poorEdwin had to go to a cats' hospital.""And I hope," said Ukridge, "the experience will do him good. Sneakeda dog's dinner, Garnet, under his very nose, if you please. Naturallythe dog lodged a protest.""I'm so afraid that he will be frightened of Bob. He will be verytimid, and Bob's so boisterous. Isn't he, Mr. Garnet?""That's all right," said Ukridge. "Bob won't hurt him, unless he triesto steal his dinner. In that case we will have Edwin made into a rug.""Stanley doesn't like Edwin," said Mrs. Ukridge, sadly.

　　Edwin arrived early in the afternoon, and was shut into the kitchen.

　　He struck me as a handsome cat, but nervous.

　　The Derricks followed two hours later. Mr. Chase was not of the party.

　　"Tom had to go to London," explained the professor, "or he would havebeen delighted to come. It was a disappointment to the boy, for hewanted to see the farm.""He must come some other time," said Ukridge. "We invite inspection.

　　Look here," he broke off suddenly--we were nearing the fowl-run now,Mrs. Ukridge walking in front with Phyllis Derrick--"were you ever atBristol?""Never, sir," said the professor.

　　"Because I knew just such another fat little buffer there a few yearsago. Gay old bird, he was. He--""This is the fowl-run, professor," I broke in, with a moist, tinglingfeeling across my forehead and up my spine. I saw the professorstiffen as he walked, while his face deepened in colour. Ukridge'sbreezy way of expressing himself is apt to electrify the stranger.

　　"You will notice the able way--ha! ha!--in which the wire-netting isarranged," I continued feverishly. "Took some doing, that. By Jove,yes. It was hot work. Nice lot of fowls, aren't they? Rather a mixedlot, of course. Ha! ha! That's the dealer's fault though. We aregetting quite a number of eggs now. Hens wouldn't lay at first.