It was the sight of Councillor Mindiggle's shuffling feet that upset Flirt. The dog never could tolerate a slovenly gait. Before Fordyce could stop her, she had flown at the man's legs, and was tearing down the street with a piece of cloth between her teeth.
"I'm awfully sorry," began the Sub. "I hope my dog hasn't bitten you?"
"Being sorry won't mend my trousers, Mr. Fordyce," replied the aggrieved man. "As for being bitten, I distinctly felt the brute's teeth. And it's not the first time she has flown at me. What have you to say to that?"
"Of course what is done cannot be undone in this case," continued Fordyce, "but if I can make any reparation——"
"The only reparation you can make is to have that dog destroyed," interrupted Councillor Mindiggle. "What's more, I mean to take out a summons against you for not keeping a dangerous dog under proper control. Good morning!"
The irate Mindiggle shuffled away, while Fordyce turned and walked back to his home, whither Flirt had preceded him and, with the trophy still in her mouth, was awaiting her master.
"What, back already?" enquired Mr. Fordyce. "Anything wrong?"
"Yes, Pater," replied his son. "Flirt has flown at that Mindiggle fellow. He must have hacked her some time ago or she wouldn't have gone for him like that," he added in defence of his pet.
"That animal will get you into trouble," declared Mr. Fordyce; "or, rather, I get the worry of her, since you are away most of the time. It's a pity you can't take Flirt with you."
The Sub had not thought of that possibility. A dog would lead a dog's life indeed on board a submarine. But a more urgent problem offered itself.