eden when Patch, counting her Irish terrier an
intruder, took him suddenly by the throat....

In an instant the place was Bedlam.

My lady hovered about the combatants, one hand to her breast, the other
snatching frantically at her favourite's tail: Lyveden leapt to his
feet and, cramming his pipe into a pocket, flung himself forward: the
mistress of the inn and her maid crowded each other in the doorway,
emitting cries of distress: and the now ravening flurry of brown and
white raged snarling and whirling upon the brick pavement with all the
finished frightfulness of the _haute ecole_.

Arrived at close quarters, Anthony cast a look round. Then he picked
up the pair anyhow and swung them into the water-butt two paces away.

For a moment the contents boiled, seething as if possessed. Then, with
a fearful convulsion, the waves parted and the water gave up its prey.
Two choking, gasping, spluttering heads appeared simultaneously: with
one accord four striving paws clawed desperately at the rim of the
butt. The fight was off.

Intelligently the girl stepped up on to a convenient bench, and Anthony
lifted the Irish terrier out of his watery peril. As was to be
expected, he shook himself inconsiderately, and Anthony, who was not on
the bench, was generously bedewed. Then Patch was hauled out by the
scruff of his neck.... So far as could be seen, neither of the dogs
was one penny the worse. There had been much cry, but little wool.

Lyveden turned to my lady and raised his hat.

"I'm awfully sorry," he said. "My dog was entirely to blame."

"D'you mind controlling him now?" she said coldly.

Lyveden called Patch, and the Sealyham trotted up, shaking the water
out of his ears as he came. Wet as he was, the man picked him up and
put him under his arm.

"I hope your dog isn't hurt," he said quietly. "I'm very sorry."

The girl did not deign to answer, but, stepping down from her perch,
summoned her terrier and strolled down the little greensward with her
chin in the air.

Anthony bit his lip. Then he turned on his heel and, clapping his hat
on his head, tramped into the inn. A moment later he had paid his
reckoning and was out on the road. After all, he reflected, Patch
wasn't to blame. He had acted according to his lights.

When he was out of sight of the inn, Anthony sat down by the wayside
and dried his terrier's ears with his pocket-handkerchief and the
utmost care.

* * *