‘Oh do call this one Lady Winifred, if she turns out perfect, will you? Do tell Marshall to call it Lady Winifred.’

‘I’ll tell him — but I’m afraid that’s a gentleman puppy, Miss Winifred.’

‘Oh NO!’ There was the sound of a car. ‘There’s Rupert!’ cried the child, and she ran to the gate.

Birkin, driving his car, pulled up outside the lodge gate.

‘We’re ready!’ cried Winifred. ‘I want to sit in front with you, Rupert. May I?’

‘I’m afraid you’ll fidget about and fall out,’ he said.

‘No I won’t. I do want to sit in front next to you. It makes my feet so lovely and warm, from the engines.’