No one, even in a moment of national emergency,
could possibly belong to Spoopin's Horse.''
The new-comer smiled weakly, as one who is not to be put
off by mere flippancy, and began again with patient
persistence:
``I think you ought to remember my name---''
``I shall,'' said Clovis, with an air of immense
sincerity. ``My aunt was asking me only this morning to
suggest names for four young owls she's just had sent her as
pets. I shall call them all Tarrington; then if one or two
of them die or fly away, or leave us in any of the ways that
pet owls are prone to, there will be always one or two left
to carry on your name. And my aunt won't _let_ me forget
it; she will always be asking `Have the Tarringtons had
their mice?' and questions of that sort. She says if you
keep wild creatures in captivity you ought to see after
their wants, and of course she's quite right there.''
``I met you at luncheon at your aunt's house once---''
broke in Mr. Tarrington, pale but still resolute.
``My aunt never lunches,'' said Clovis; ``she belongs to
the National Anti-Luncheon League, which is doing quite a
lot of good work in a quiet, unobtrusive way.
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