All went well until Hamlet reached the fox terriers, when Luck made a spring for the basket. This seemed to be a signal of revolt against good behaviour, for instantly Hamlet dropped on all fours and began careering wildly around, still holding the basket. Instantly all the dogs were running about in a circle, barking and yelping wildly, the little tea table was overturned, and cups, saucers, and cookies went rolling down the walk together.
The Lanes’ groom flew out from ambush and tried to restore order, or at least to catch his own dogs, but Hans Sachs ran between his feet and upset him in the midst of the china.
At first the children had added their shouts to the general mêlée; but when the table was overturned, Pinkie began to cry, and Ruby having growled at Silvie, little Sophie added her tears. For a moment poor Miss Letty was completely bewildered, then she tried to capture Hamlet, who was evidently the ringleader; but Hamlet was no longer the polite and obedient house dog. He would not even listen, and after circling the lawn three or four times, the others following in a line like a troop of circus dogs, he led them through the open back gate, and across the fields, still holding the basket of five-o’clock teas aloft, until all disappeared from view like a whirlwind in the tall grass—Silvie, blue bow, and all.
“’Taint no mortial use followin’ on ’em that ways, miss,” said the Lanes’ man, making for the stable. “I’ll take the pony and head ’em off by the cross-road, or they’ll run to Pine Ridge shore.”
“Now I think we would better eat our ice-cream and sponge cake before they come back or anything else happens,” said Miss Letty, as she and the waitress rearranged the table, and the children agreed with her vociferously, that is, all but Pinkie. She had her great-grandmother’s silver cake basket weighing on her conscience, and even ice-cream seemed odious.
Suddenly Miss Letty realized that Hamlet had carried off the basket, and without knowing its value, she spoke of it to the waitress, who grew pale with fright when she heard what Pinkie had done, saying that the mistress would never allow any one even to clean the baskets but herself. A man was hastily sent to follow the trail of the dogs carefully, and two helpings of ice-cream and unlimited cake and mottoes kept up the spirit of those who had clear consciences for more than half an hour, when a yelping from the direction of Happy Hall orchard told that the run was over and the runners returning.
This time they came in at the gate, Hamlet still in the lead, but without the basket. All were dripping wet, with water-weeds, and ooze clinging to their coats and tails, and Miss Silvie’s blue ribbon stringing out behind her was merely a long rag. Hamlet had found himself, however, he was once more the retrieving water dog of old France, and he had led his friends to the mill pond and challenged them to a swimming match. A water dog he remained, for from that day he refused to do his taught tricks, and wore his hair only long enough to clothe his skin, but he became a more intelligent companion than ever.
Supper time came, and with it the return of Pinkie’s mother and aunt, but the cake basket could not be found.