“ Mr. Eshley,” said Adela in a shaking voice, “I asked you to drive that beast out of my garden, but I did not ask you to drive it into my house. If I must have it anywhere on the premises I prefer the garden to the morning-room.”

“Cattle drives are not in my line,” said Eshley; “if I remember I told you so at the outset.”

“I quite agree,” retorted the lady, “painting pretty pictures of pretty little cows is what you’re suited for. Perhaps you’d like to do a nice sketch of that ox making itself at home in my morning-room?”

This time it seemed as if the worm had turned; Eshley began striding away.

“Where are you going?” screamed Adela.

“To fetch implements,” was the answer.