"Yes, yes," said the old lady soothingly. "Poor doggie!"

The crowd, who had hoped for better things, here gave vent to a prolonged
jeer.

"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 approache