Chapter 25

After supper, they drank tea in the sitting room, Marmaduke condescending to sit on George’s lap and be stroked. “You know,” George said idly, “I always imagined a cat called Marmaduke would be ginger. I haven’t the faintest idea why.”

“It’s probably the association of words,” Matthew said with a smile. “Marmaduke does sound a lot like marmalade, after all.”

“Why on earth did you choose the name—I assume it was you who named him?”

“Oh yes! He turned up here, oh, at the end of summer, it must have been, looking terribly thin and forlorn. Mrs. Mac wasn’t awfully keen to keep him at first, but we had a very timely infestation of mice which made up her mind for her.”

George gave his friend a sidelong look. “If I were a more suspicious man, I’d wonder if you’d arranged that infestation.”