The hound’s grandfather.

           Motherdidnotgetbacktoherwritingallthatday,forthered-jerseyedhoundwhomthechildrenhadbroughttoThreeChimneyshadtobeputtobed.AndthentheDoctorcame,andhurthimmosthorribly.Motherwaswithhimallthroughit,andthatmadeitalittlebetterthanitwouldhavebeen,but"badwasthebest,"asMrs.Vineysaid.

           ThechildrensatintheparlourdownstairsandheardthesoundoftheDoctor’sbootsgoingbackwardsandforwardsoverthebedroomfloor.Andonceortwicetherewasagroan.

           "It’shorrible,"saidBobbie."Oh,IwishDr.Forrestwouldmakehaste.Oh,poorJim!"

           "ItIShorrible,"saidPeter,"butit’sveryexciting.IwishDoctorsweren’tsostuck-upaboutwhothey’llhaveintheroomwhenthey’redoingthings.Ishouldmostawfullyliketoseealegset.Ibelievethebonescrunchlikeanything."

           "Don’t!"saidthetwogirlsatonce.

           "Rubbish!"saidPeter."HowareyougoingtobeRedCrossNurses,likeyouweretalkingofcominghome,ifyoucan’tevenstandhearingmesayaboutbonescrunching?You’dhavetoHEARthemcrunchonthefieldofbattle—andbesteepedingoreuptotheelbowsaslikelyasnot,and—"

           "Stopit!"criedBobbie,withawhiteface;"youdon’tknowhowfunnyyou’remakingmefeel."

           "Me,too,"saidPhyllis,whosefacewaspink.

           "Cowards!"saidPeter.

           "I’mnot,"saidBobbie.