“Stop!” said Mr. Lavender; “I am going to take a collection.

“There, there!” said the old lady.  “Poor man!”

“I don’t know what you mean by that, madam,” said Mr. Lavender, whose spirit was roused; “I shall certainly take a collection, in the interests of our population.”  So saying he removed his hat, and disengaging his arm from the old lady’s hand, moved out into the throng, extending the hat.  A boy took it from him at once, and placing it on his head, ran off, pursued by Blink, who, by barking and jumping up increased the boy’s speed to one of which he could never have thought himself capable.  Mr. Lavender followed, calling out “Blink!” at the top of his voice.  The crowd followed Mr. Lavender, and the old lady followed crowd.  Thus they proceeded until the boy, arriving at a small piece of communal water, flung the hat into the middle of it, and, scaling the wall, made a strategic detour and became a disinterested spectator among the crowd.  The hat, after skimming the surface of the pond, settled like a water-lily, crown downwards, while Blink, perceiving in all this the hand of her master, stood barking at it wildly.  Mr. Lavender arrived at the edge of the pond slightly in advance of the crowd.

“Good Blink!” he said.  “Fetch it!  Good Blink!”

Blink looked up into his face, and, with the acumen for which her breed is noted, perceiving he desired her to enter the water backed away from it.

“She is not a water dog,” explained Mr. Lavender to the three soldiers in blue clothes.

“Good dog; fetch it!” Blink backed into the soldiers, who, bending down, took her by head tail, threw her into the pond, and encouraged her on with small stones pitched at the hat.  Having taken the plunge, the intelligent animal waded boldly to the hat, and endeavoured by barking and making little rushes at it with her nose, to induce it to return to shore.

“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.