“Ah!” said the Squire, with a gesture of horror.
The brougham took him and the Rector back together. Under their feet crouched their respective dogs, faintly growling at each other. A cheer from the crowd greeted their departure.
They started in silence, deadly tired. Mr. Pendyce said suddenly:
“I can't get those poor beasts out of my head, Barter!”
The Rector put his hand up to his eyes.
“I hope to God I shall never see such a sight again! Poor brutes, poor brutes!”
And feeling secretly for his dog's muzzle, he left his hand against the animal's warm, soft, rubbery mouth, to be licked again and again.
On his side of the brougham Mr. Pendyce, also unseen, was doing precisely the same thing.
The carriage went first to the Rectory, where Mrs. Barter and her children stood in the doorway. The Rector put his head back into the brougham to say:
“Good-night, Pendyce. You'll be stiff tomorrow. I shall get my wife to rub me with Elliman!”