“My God!” ejaculated Mr. Lavender and falling back again, so stiff was he. “Is it possible? There must be some good reason. Blink!”
Blink wagged her little tail, thrust her nose into his hand, removed it, and growled again.
“She is quite well, I assure you,” Mr. Lavender added hastily, “her nose is icy.”
“She's bitten me,” repeated the nephew, pulling up his trouser leg. “There's no mark, but she distinctly bit me.”
“Treasure!” said Mr. Lavender, endeavouring to interest him in the dog. “Do you notice how dark the rims of her eyes are, and how clear the whites? Extraordinarily well bred. Blink!”
Aware that she was being talked of Blink continued to be torn between the desire to wag her tail and to growl. Unable to make up her mind, she sighed heavily and fell on her side against her side against her master's legs.
“Wonderful with sheep, too,” said Mr. Lavender; “at least, she would be if they would let her.... You should see her with them on the Heath. They simply can't bear her.”
“You will hear from me again,” said the nephew sourly.
“Thank you,” said Mr. Lavender. “I shall be glad of a proof; it is always safer, I believe.”
“Good morning,” said the nephew.