She had been very much frightened then, though not too frightened to stay, herself, within hail of the man till he had come round, and to make him a cup of strong coffee.

When, at last, he was fit to do so, he had uttered broken words of gratitude, really touched at her kindness, and frightfully ashamed of himself.
Lying there, wide awake, in the darkness and utter stillness of Beechfield village, Enid Crofton reminded herself that she had treated Piper very well.

In memory of the master whom he had served she had also given him, before selling off her husband's kennel, two prize-winners.
But it is sometimes a mistake to be too kind, for on receiving this last generous gift the man had hinted that with a little capital he could set up dog-breeding for himself! She had had to tell him, sadly but firmly, that she could not help him to any ready money, and Piper had been what she now vaguely described to herself as "very nice" about it, though obviously disappointed.
At the end of their little chat, however, he had said something which had made her feel rather uncomfortable:--"I was wondering, ma'am, whether Major Radmore might perhaps be inclined for a little speculation?
I wouldn't mind paying, say, up to ten per cent, if 'e'd oblige me with a loan of five hundred pounds." She had been astonished at the suggestion--astonished and unpleasantly taken aback.

He had surprised her further by going on:--"I believe as what the Major is coming 'ome soon, ma'am.

Perhaps then I might venture to ask you to say a word for me?
Major Radmore was known in the regiment as a very kind gentleman." "I'll do what I can, Piper." She had said the words with apparent earnestness, but, deep in her heart, she had thought the request totally unreasonable.
And now it was this conversation which came back to her as she moved restlessly about in her bed.