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isn’t enough-he has to ask you to his home for a party.”
    I grabbed the card and slipped it out of sight. “All right, all right, I know. But what am I supposed to do?”
    “Do? What you do is to sit down right away and get a letter off saying thank you very much, you’ll be there on February the fifth. Mrs. Pumphrey’s parties are famous. Mountains of exotic food, rivers of champagne. Don’t miss it whatever you do.”
    “Will there be a lot of people there?” I asked, shuffling my feet.
    Siegfried struck himself on the forehead with his open hand. “Of course there’ll be a lot of people. What d’you think? Did you expect it would be just you and Tricki? You’d have a few beers together and then you’d dance a slow foxtrot with him? The cream of the county will be there in full regalia but my guess is that there will be no more honored guest than Uncle Herriot. Why? Because Mrs. Pumphrey invited the others but Tricki invited you.”
    “Okay, okay,” I groaned. “I’ll be on my own and I haven’t got a proper evening suit. I don’t fancy it.”
    Siegfried rose and put a hand on my shoulder. “My dear chap, don’t mess about. Sit down and accept the invitation and then go into Brawton and hire a suit for the night. You won’t be on your own for long—the debs will be tramping over each other for a dance with you.” He gave the shoulder a final pat before walking to the door. Before leaving he turned round and his expression was grave. “And remember for Pete’s sake don’t write to Mrs. Pumphrey. Address your letter to Tricki himself or you’re sunk.”
    I had a lot of mixed feelings churning around in me when I presented myself at the Pumphrey home on the night of February 5. A maid led me into the hall and I could see Mrs. Pumphrey at the entrance to the ballroom receiving her guests and, beyond, an elegant throng standing around with drinks. There was a well-bred clamor, a general atmosphere of wealth. I straightened the tie on my hired outfit, took a deep breath and waited.
    Mrs. Pumphrey was smiling sweetly as she shook hands with the couple in front of me but when she saw me her face became radiant. “Oh Mr. Herriot, how nice of you to come. Tricki was so delighted to have your letter—in fact, we really must go in and see him now.” She led me across the hall.
    “He’s in the morning room,” she whispered. “Between ourselves he finds these affairs rather a bore, but he’ll be simply furious if I don’t take you in for a moment.”
    Tricki was curled up in an armchair by the side of a bright fire. When he saw me he jumped on the back of the chair barking in delight, his huge, laughing mouth bisecting his face. I was trying to fend off his attempts to lick my face when I caught sight of two large food bowls on the carpet. One contained about a pound of chopped chicken, the other a mass of crumbled cake.
    “Mrs. Pumphrey!” I thundered, pointing at the bowls. The poor woman put her hand to her mouth and shrank away from me.
    “Oh do forgive me,” she wailed, her face a picture of guilt. “It’s just a special treat because he’s alone tonight. And the weather is so cold, too.” She clasped her hands and looked at me abjectly.
    “I’ll forgive you,” I said sternly, “if you will remove half the chicken and all the cake.”
    Fluttering, like a little girl caught in naughtiness, she did as I said.
    I parted regretfully from the little Peke. It had been a busy day and I was sleepy from the hours in the biting cold. This room with its fire and soft lighting looked more inviting than the noisy glitter of the ballroom and I would have preferred to curl up here with Tricki on my knee for an hour or two.
    Mrs. Pumphrey became brisk. “Now you must come and meet some of my friends.” We went into the ballroom where light blazed down from three cut-glass chandeliers and was reflected dazzlingly down from the cream and gold many-mirrored walls. We moved from group to group as