"Is it possible? There must be some good reason. Blink!"
Blink wagged her little tail, thrust her nose into his hand, removed it,
and growled again.
"She is quite well, I assure you," Mr. Lavender added hastily, "her nose
is icy."
"She's bitten me," repeated the nephew, pulling up his trouser leg.
"There's no mark, but she distinctly bit me."
"Treasure!" said Mr. Lavender, endeavouring to interest him in the dog.
"Do you notice how dark the rims of her eyes are, and how clear the
whites? Extraordinarily well bred. Blink!"
Aware that she was being talked of Blink continued to be torn between
the desire to wag her tail and to growl. Unable to make up her mind,
she sighed heavily and fell on her side against her side against her
master's legs.
"Wonderful with sheep, too," said Mr. Lavender; "at least, she would
be if they would let her.... You should see her with them on the Heath.
They simply can't bear her."
"You will hear from me again," said the nephew sourly.
"Thank you," said Mr. Lavender. "I shall be glad of a proof; it is
always safer, I believe."
"Good morning," said the nephew.
Blink, who alone perceived the dark meaning in these words, seeing him
move towards the door began to bark and run from side to side behind
him, for all the world as if he had been a flock of sheep.
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