“She thinks it’s a sheep,” said Mr. Lavender; “a striking instance of hereditary instinct.”

Blink, unable to persuade the hat, mounted it with her fore-paws and trod it under.

“Ooray!” shouted the crowd.

“Give us a shilling, guv’nor, an’ I’ll get it for yer?”

“Thank you, my boy,” said Mr. Lavender, producing a shilling.

The boy—­the same boy who had thrown it in—­stepped into the water and waded towards the hat.  But as he approached, Blink interposed between him and the hat, growling and showing her teeth.

“Does she bite?” yelled the boy.

“Only strangers,” cried Mr. Lavender.

Excited by her master’s appeal, Blink seized the jacket of the boy, who made for the shore, while the hat rested in the centre of the pond, the cynosure of the stones with which the soldiers were endeavouring to drive it towards the bank.  By this, time the old lady had rejoined Mr. Lavender.

“Your nice hat she murmured.

“I thank you for your sympathy, madam,” Lavender, running his hand through his hair; “in moments like these one realizes the deep humanity of the British people.  I really believe that in no other race could you find such universal interest and anxiety to recover a hat.  Say what you will, we are a great nation, who only, need rousing to show our best qualities.  Do you remember the words of the editor:  ’In the spavined and spatch-cocked ruin to which our inhuman enemies have reduced civilization, we of the island shine with undimmed effulgence in all those qualities which mark man out from the ravening beast’?”

“But how are you going to get your hat?” asked the old lady.

“I know not,” returned Mr. Lavender, still under the influence of the sentiment he had quoted; “but if I had fifteen hats I would take them all off to the virtues which have been ascribed to the British people by all those great men who have written and spoken since the war began.”

“Yes,” said the old lady soothingly.  “But, I think you had better come under my sunshade.  The sun is very strong.”

“Madam,” said Mr. Lavender, “you are very good, but your sunshade is too small.  To deprive you of even an inch of its shade would be unworthy of anyone in public life.”  So saying, he recoiled from the proffered sunshade into the pond, which he had forgotten was behind him.

“Oh, dear!” said the old lady; “now you’ve got your feet wet!”

“It is nothing,” responded Mr. Lavender gallantly.  And seeing that he was already wet, he rolled up his trousers, and holding up the tails of his holland coat, turned round and proceeded towards his hat, to the frantic delight of the crowd.