"
In silence we strolled down the road.
When we came to the lane, Berry stopped dead.
"Brother," he said, "I perceive it to be my distasteful duty to return.
There is an omission which I must repair."
"You're not serious?" said I. "The fellow'll murder you."
"No, he won't," said Berry. "He'll probably burst a blood-vessel, and,
with luck, he may even have a stroke. But he won't murder me. You see."
And, with that, he turned down the lane towards the door in the wall.
Nobby and I followed.
A moment later we were once more in the garden.
The scene upon which we came was big with promise.
Staggering over the frantic employment of a pickaxe, Vandy was
inflicting grievous injury upon the turf about the very spot at which
the terrier had been digging. Standing well out of range, his sisters
were regarding the exhibition with clasped hands and looks of mingled
excitement and apprehension. All three were so much engrossed that,
until Berry spoke, they were not aware of our presence.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt you again"--Emma and May screamed, and Vandy
endeavoured to check his implement in mid-swing, and only preserved his
balance and a whole skin as by a miracle--"but, you know, I quite forgot
to ask you about the book.
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