--Ah! Good morning, Doyle. Lovely day, isn't
it? Seen anything of our friend Simpkins this morning?"
"I have not," said Doyle, "and I don't want to. I wouldn't care if I
never set eyes on that fellow again."
"You'd have liked to have seen him yesterday," said Meldon.
"I would not."
"You would. The Major had him out for a day in the _Spindrift_, and--"
Meldon winked.
Doyle got down from his trap and stood at the horse's head.
"A sicker man," said Meldon, "you never saw."
"Sick!"
"As a dog. Beastly sick. I don't care to enter into details; but,
considering the small amount he ate during the day, the way he kept at
it would have surprised you."
"Sick! What's the good of being sick? Why didn't you drown him?"
"We had Miss King out too," said Meldon, "and we didn't want to drown
her. Besides, it wasn't the kind of day in which you could very well
drown any one."
"What brought me over here this morning," said Doyle, "was--"
"I know," said Meldon. "You want to gather in the Major's subscription
to the illuminated address with the apple trees in the corners. You
shall have it. He's signing the cheque this minute.
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