rst."

The star winked.

"He calls her Phyllis," I said.

"Charawk!" chuckled Aunt Elizabeth from her basket, in that beastly
cynical, satirical way which has made her so disliked by all
right-thinking people.

CHAPTER VIII

A LITTLE DINNER AT UKRIDGE'S

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

"And the Derricks," said Ukridge, sawing at the bread in his energetic
way. "Don't forget the Derricks, Millie."

"No, dear. Mrs. Beale is going to give us a very nice dinner. We talked
it over yesterday."

"Who is Edwin?" I asked.

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

"Edwin?" said Ukridge. "Oh, beast of a cat."

"Oh, Stanley!" said Mrs. Ukridge plaintively. "He's not. He's such a
dear, Mr. Garnet. A beautiful, pure-bred Persian. He has taken prizes."

"He's always taking something. That's why he didn't come down with us."

"A great, horrid, _beast_ of a dog bit him, Mr. Garnet. And poor Edwin
had to go to a cats' hospital."

"And I hope," said Ukridge, "the experience will do him good. Sneaked a
dog's dinner, Garnet, under his very nose, if you please. Naturally the
dog lodged a protest."

"I'm so afraid that he will be frightened of Bob. He will be very
timid, and Bob's so boisterous. Isn't he, Mr. Garnet?"

"That's all right," said Ukridge. "Bob won't hurt him, unless he tries
to 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 have
been delighted to come. It was a disappointment to the boy, for he
wanted 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 at
Bristol?"

"Never, sir," said the professor.

"Because I knew just such another fat little buffer there a few year