Blink, who alone perceived the dark meaning in these words, seeing him move towards the door began to bark and run from side to side behind him, for all the world as if he had been a flock of sheep.
“Keep her off!” said the nephew anxiously. “Keep her off. I refuse to be bitten again.”
“Blink!” called Mr. Lavender in some agony. Blink, whose obedience was excessive, came back to him at once, and stood growling from under her master's hand, laid on the white hair which flowed back from her collar, till the nephew's footsteps had died away. “I cannot imagine,” thought Mr. Lavender, “why she should have taken exception to that excellent journalist. Perhaps he did not smell quite right? One never knows.”
And with her moustachioed muzzle pressed to his chin Mr. Lavender sought for explanation in the innocent and living darkness of his dog's eyes....
On leaving Mr. Lavender's the nephew forthwith returned to the castle in Frognal, and sought his aunt.
“Mad as a March hare, Aunt Rosie; and his dog bit me.”
“That dear doggie?”
“They're dangerous.”
“You were always funny about dogs, dear,” said his aunt soothingly. “Why, even Sealey doesn't really like you.” And calling to the little low white dog she quite failed to attract his attention. “Did you notice his dress. The first time I took him for a shepherd, and the second time—-! What do you think ought to be done?”
“He'll have to be watched,” said the nephew. “We can't have lunatics at large in Hampstead.”