Free The 101 Dalmatians by Dodie Smith Page B

and Missis tiptoed to the back of the screen, they noticed that there was a large table beside Sir Charles on which was his luncheon tray—finished with now, and neatly covered by a table-napkin-and everything necessary for tea. Water was already boiling in a silver kettle over a spirit lamp. Sir Charles filled the teapot and put the tea-cosy on. Then he lifted a silver cover from a plate on which there were a number of slices of bread. By now the Spaniel had joined him and was thumping his tail.
    â€œHungry, are you?” said Sir Charles. “Well, we’ve a good fire for our toast.”
    Then he put a slice of bread on a toasting fork. It was no ordinary toasting fork, for it was made of iron and nearly four feet long. It was really meant for pushing logs into position. But it was just what Sir Charles needed, and he handled it with great skill, avoiding the Haming logs and toasting the bread where the wood glowed red hot. A slice of toast was ready in no time. Sir Charles buttered it thickly and offered a piece to the Spaniel, who ate it while Sir Charles watched.
    Missis was a little surprised that the courteous Spaniel had not offered her the first piece. She was even more surprised when he received a second piece and ate that too, while Sir Charles watched. She began to feel very hungry—and very anxious. Surely the kind Spaniel had not invited them to tea just to watch him eat? Then a third piece of toast was offered—and this time Sir Charles happened to turn away. Instantly the Spaniel dropped the toast behind the screen. Piece after piece travelled this way to Pongo and Missis, with the Spaniel only eating one now and then—when Sir Charles happened to be looking. Missis felt ashamed of her hungry suspicions.
    â€œNever known you with such a good appetite, my boy,” said the old gentleman delightedly. And he made slice after slice of toast until all the bread was gone. Then cakes were handed on in the same way. And then Sir Charles offered the Spaniel a silver bowl of tea. This was put down so close to the edge of the screen that Pongo and Missis were able to drink some while Sir Charles was looking the other way. When he saw the bowl empty, he filled it again and again so everyone had enough. Pongo and Missis had always had splendid food, but they had never before had hot buttered toast and sweet milky tea. It was a meal they always remembered.
    At last Sir Charles rose stiffly, put another log on the fire, and then settled back in his chair and closed his eyes. Soon he was asleep, and the Spaniel beckoned Pongo and Missis to the fire. They sat on the warm hearth and looked up at the old gentleman. His face was deeply lined and all the lines drooped, and somehow he had a look of the Spaniel—or the Spaniel had a look of Sir Charles. Both of them were lit by the firelight, and beyond them was the great window, now blue with evening.
    We ought to be on our way,“ whispered Pongo to Missis. But it was so warm, so quiet, and they were both so full of buttered toast that they drifted into a light and delightful sleep.
    Pongo awoke with a start. Surely someone had spoken his name?
    The fire was no longer blazing brightly, but there was still enough light to see that the old gentleman was awake and leaning forward.
    â€œWell, if that isn’t Pongo and his missis,” he murmured smilingly. “Well, Well! What a pleasure! What a pleasure!”
    Missis had opened her eyes now.
    The Spaniel whispered, “Don’t move, either of you.”
    â€œCan you see them?” said the old gentleman, putting his hand on the Spaniel’s head. “If you can, don’t be frightened. They won’t hurt you. You’d have liked them. Let’s see, they must have died fifty years before you were born—more than that. They were the first dogs I ever knew. I used to ask my mother to stop the carriage and let them get inside—I couldn’t bear to see them