The little man looked from one to the other.

He might add an action for assault and battery to the claim, but that would delay its collection.
"Then at TWELVE o'clock, to-morrow, Mr.Temple," he purred blandly.
"At twelve o'clock!" repeated St.George coldly, wondering which end of the intruder he would grapple when he threw him through the front door and down the front steps.
"I will be here on the stroke of the clock, sir--on the STROKE," and Gadgem slunk out.
For some minutes St.George continued to walk up and down the room, stooping once in a while to caress the setter; dry-washing his hands; tapping his well-cut waistcoat with his shapely fingers, his thumbs in the arm-holes; halting now and then to stretch himself to the full height of his body.

He had outwitted the colonel--taught him a lesson--let him see that he was not the only "hound in the pack," and, best of all, he had saved the boy from annoyance and possibly from disgrace.
He was still striding up and down the room, when Harry, who had overslept himself as usual, came down to breakfast.

Had some friend of his uncle found a gold mine in the back yard--or, better still, had Todd just discovered a forgotten row of old "Brahmin Madeira" in some dark corner of his cellar--St.George could not have been more buoyant.
"Glad you didn't get up any earlier, you good-for-nothing sleepy-head!" he cried in welcoming, joyous tones.

"You have just missed that ill-smelling buzzard." "What buzzard ?" asked Harry, glancing over the letters on the mantel in the forlorn hope of finding one from Kate.
"Why, Gadgem--and that is the last you will ever see of him." "Why ?--has father paid him ?" he asked in a listless way, squeezing Dandy's nose thrust affectionately into his hand--his mind still on Kate.