I saw by Travers’s face that he was telling himself he would have found fifty Bingos in half the time—­if he had only thought of it; he smiled a melancholy assent to all the colonel said, and then began to study me with an obviously depreciatory air.

“You can’t think,” I heard Mrs. Currie telling my mother, “how really touching it was to see poor Bingo’s emotion at seeing all the old familiar objects again!  He went up and sniffed at them all in turn, quite plainly recognising everything.  And he was quite put out to find that we had moved his favourite ottoman out of the drawing-room.  But he is so penitent too, and so ashamed of having run away; he kept under a chair in the hall all the morning; he wouldn’t come in here, either, so we had to leave him in your garden.”

“He’s been sadly out of spirits all day,” said Lilian; “he hasn’t bitten one of the tradespeople.”

“Oh, he’s all right, the rascal!” said the colonel, cheerily.  “He’ll be after the cats again as well as ever in a day or two.”

“Ah, those cats!” said my poor innocent mother.  “Algy, you haven’t tried the air-gun on them again lately, have you?  They’re worse than ever.”

I troubled the colonel to pass the claret.  Travers laughed for the first time.  “That’s a good idea,” he said, in that carrying “bar-mess” voice of his; “an air-gun for cats, ha, ha!  Make good bags, eh, Weatherhead?” I said that I did, very good bags, and felt I was getting painfully red in the face.

“Oh, Algy is an excellent shot—­quite a sportsman,” said my mother.  “I remember, oh, long ago, when we lived at Hammersmith, he had a pistol, and he used to strew crumbs in the garden for the sparrows, and shoot at them out of the pantry window; he frequently hit one.”

“Well,” said the colonel, not much impressed by these sporting reminiscences, “don’t go rolling over our Bingo by mistake, you know, Weatherhead, my boy.  Not but what you’ve a sort of right after this—­only don’t.  I wouldn’t go through it all twice for anything.”

“If you really won’t take any more wine,” I said, hurriedly, addressing the colonel and Travers, “suppose we all go out and have our coffee on the lawn?  It—­it will be cooler there.”  For it was getting very hot indoors, I thought.

I left Travers to amuse the ladies—­he could do no more harm now; and, taking the colonel aside, I seized the opportunity, as we strolled up and down the garden path, to ask his consent to Lilian’s engagement to me.  He gave it cordially.  “There’s not a man in England,” he said, “that I’d sooner see her married to after to-day.  You’re a quiet, steady young fellow, and you’ve a good kind heart.  As for the money, that’s neither here nor there; Lilian won’t come to you without a penny, you know.  But really, my boy, you can hardly believe what it is to my poor wife and me to see that dog.  Why, bless my soul, look at him now!  What’s the matter with him, eh?”