"How observant you are," said Adela bitterly. "You seem to notice
everything. As a matter of fact, it has got six chrysanthemums in its
mouth at the present moment."

The necessity for doing something was becoming imperative. Eshley took a
step or two in the direction of the animal, clapped his hands, and made
noises of the "Hish" and "Shoo" variety. If the ox heard them it gave no
outward indication of the fact.

"If any hens should ever stray into my garden," said Adela, "I should
certainly send for you to frighten them out. You 'shoo' beautifully.
Meanwhile, do you mind trying to drive that ox away? That is a
_Mademoiselle Louise Bichot_ that he's begun on now," she added in icy
calm, as a glowing orange head was crushed into the huge munching mouth.

"Since you have been so frank about the variety of the chrysanthemum,"
said Eshley, "I don't mind telling you that this is an Ayrshire ox."

The icy calm broke down; Adela Pingsford used language that sent the
artist instinctively a few feet nearer to the ox. He picked up a pea-
stick and flung it with some determination against the animal's mottled
flanks. The operation of mashing _Mademoiselle Louise Bichot_ into a
petal salad was suspended for a long moment, while the ox gazed with
concentrated inquiry at the stick-thrower. Adela gazed with equal
concentration and more obvious hostility at the same focus. As the beast
neither lowered its head nor stamped its feet Eshley ventured on another
javelin exercise with another pea-stick. The ox seemed to realise at
once that it was to go; it gave a hurried final pluck at the bed where
the chrysanthemums had been, and strode swiftly up the garden. Eshley
ran to head it towards the gate, but only succeeded in quickening its
pace from a walk to a lumbering trot. With an air of inquiry, but with
no real hesitation, it crossed the tiny strip of turf that the charitable
called the croquet lawn, and pushed its way through the open French
window into the morning-room. Some chrysanthemums and other autumn
herbage stood about the room in vases, and the animal resumed its
browsing operations; all the same, Eshley fancied that the beginnings of
a hunted look had come into its eyes, a look that counselled respect. He
discontinued his attempt to interfere with its choice of surroundings.

"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