But when Janet had told Dr.O'Farrell of her little boy's latest and most peculiar claim to having seen something which was not there, the doctor had gone home and looked up an old county history, to find that up to Waterloo year there had still been standing in the pretty little hamlet of Beechfield, a small Elizabethan manor-house which had figured in the Titus Oates conspiracy.
* * * * * But to return to the evening of Mrs.Crofton's second visit to Old Place.
Timmy had given his mother his word of honour that Flick should not be released from the stable till their visitor had left.

But no casuist ever realised more clearly than did Timothy Tosswill, the delicate distinctions which spread, web-like, between the spirit, and the letter, of a law.

And while he moved nimbly about his bedroom, the plan, or rather the plot he had formed, took formal shape.
Josephine, Timmy's white Angora cat, was now established in a comfortable basket in a corner of the scullery.

There she lay, looking like a ball of ermine, with her two ten-days old kittens snuggling up close to her.
Josephine was a nervous, fussy mother, but she was devoted to her master, and he could do with her anything he liked.
Very softly he crept past Nanna's door, and as he started walking down the back staircase, he heard voices.
Then Betty and Godfrey were still in the scullery?
That was certainly a bit of bad luck, for though he thought he could manage his godfather, he knew he couldn't deceive Betty.

Betty somehow seemed to know by instinct when he, Timmy, was bent on some pleasant little bit of mischief.
He need not have been afraid, for as he slowly opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, Betty exclaimed, "I'm going into the drawing-room after all! But first I must run upstairs and make myself tidy.