“Dreadful!—­monstrous!” he cried; “poor horse!  Who is responsible for this?”

“Why,” said the old driver, “the gents as sees it steady and sees it ’ole from one side o’ the van, same as you.”

So smitten to the heart was Mr. Lavender by those words that he covered his ears with his hands and almost ran from the scene, nor did he stop till he had reached the shelter of his study, and was sitting in his arm-chair with Blink upon his feet.  “I will buy a go-cart,” he thought, “Blink and I will pull our weight and save the poor horses.  We can at least deliver our own milk and vegetables.”

He had not been sitting there for half-an-hour revolving the painful complexities of national life before the voice of Mrs. Petty recalled him from that sad reverie.

“Dr. Gobang to see you, sir.”

At sight of the doctor who had attended him for alcoholic poisoning Mr. Lavender experienced one or those vaguely disagreeable sensations which follow on half-realized insults.

“Good-morning, sir,” said the doctor; thought I’d just look in and make my mind easy about you.  That was a nasty attack.  Do you still feel your back?”

“No,” said Mr. Lavender rather coldly, while Blink growled.

“Nor your head?”

“I have never felt my head,” replied Mr. Lavender, still more coldly.

“I seem to remember——­” began the doctor.

“Doctor,” said Mr. Lavender with dignity, “surely you know that public men—­do not feel—­their heads—­it would not do.  They sometimes suffer from their throats, but otherwise they have perfect health, fortunately.”

The doctor smiled.

“Well, what do you think of the war?” he asked chattily.

“Be quiet, Blink,” said Mr. Lavender.  Then, in a far-away voice, he added:  “Whatever the clouds which have gathered above our heads for the moment, and whatever the blows which Fate may have in store for us, we shall not relax our efforts till we have attained our aims and hurled our enemies back.  Nor shall we stop there,” he went on, warming at his own words.  “It is but a weak-kneed patriotism which would be content with securing the objects for which we began to fight.  We shall not hesitate to sacrifice the last of our men, the last of our money, in the sacred task of achieving the complete ruin of the fiendish Power which has brought this great calamity on the world.  Even if our enemies surrender we will fight on till we have dictated terms on the doorsteps of Potsdam.”

The doctor, who, since Mr. Lavender began to speak, had been looking at him with strange intensity, dropped his eyes.

“Quite so,” he said heartily, “quite so.  Well, good-morning.  I only just ran in!” And leaving Mr. Lavender to the exultation he was evidently feeling, this singular visitor went out and closed the door.  Outside the garden-gate he rejoined the nephew Sinkin.

“Well?” asked the latter.