Then a series of incidents occurred with the bewildering rapidity of a cinematograph. Disturbed, apparently, by my unfortunate lapsus linguæ, the bulldog, which was crouching in the stern of the punt, leaped forward, barking his defiance. In his ardour he cannoned heavily against a basket reposing on the seat. There was a splash, a cry of despair from the bronze-haired maiden, and the aforesaid basket settled down peacefully at the bottom of the Bourne.
Let it be stated to my credit that I rose to the situation with some promptness. Unhitching the painter by a dexterous twitch, I snatched up my pole, and, with a couple of sharp shoves, sped gracefully to the rescue.
"I am so sorry," I said. "I am afraid I frightened your dog. May I make amends by getting out the basket?"
"It's very kind of you," she said simply. "Of course, it wasn't your fault at all. Come here sir!" This last to the dog.
I turned my sleeves up to the shoulders, and, leaning over the side of the punt, groped down through the shallow water until I got hold of the handle. Then, dripping but triumphant, I extracted my burden.
"I hope there is nothing to spoil in it," I said.
She smiled and shook her head.
"It's only a matter of a few sandwiches. I am very much obliged to you, and extremely sorry to have been the cause of so much trouble."
"On the contrary," I replied, "it is I and the dog who ought to apologize to you."
"I can't imagine why he was so silly," she said, administering a reproving pat to the animal, who still eyed me with some disfavour. "As a rule, he is as good as gold in a boat."