tail.
“Curious,” thought Mr. Lavender dreamily, “how Joe always does the right thing in the wrong place. He is very English.” The hammering continued, and the dog, who traced it to the omnipotence of her master, got up on the seat where she could lick his face. Mr. Lavender was compelled to stop.
“Joe,” he said, leaning out and down; “must you?”
The face of Joe, very red, leaned out and up. “What's the matter now, sir?”
“I am preparing a speech; must you hammer?”
“No,” returned Joe, “I needn't.”
“I don't wish you to waste your time,” said Mr Lavender.
“Don't worry about that, sir,” replied Joe; “there's plenty to do.”
“In that case I shall be glad to finish my speech.”
Mr. Lavender resumed his seat and Blink her position on the floor, with her head on his feet. The sound of his voice soon rose again in the car like the buzzing of large flies. “'If we are to win this war we must have an ever-increasing population. In town and countryside, in the palace and the slum, above all in the Garden City, we must have babies.'”
Here Blink, who had been regarding him with lustrous eyes, leaped on to his knees and licked his mouth. Again Mr. Lavender was compelled to stop.
“Down, Blink, down! I am not speaking to you. 'The future of our country depends on the little citizens born now. I especially appeal to women. It is to them we must look——'”
“Will you 'ave a glass, sir?”
Mr. Lavender saw before him a tumbler containing a yellow fluid.
“Joe,” he said sadly, “you know my rule——”
“'Ere's the exception, sir.”
Mr. Lavender sighed. “No, no; I must practise what I preach. I shall soon be rousing the people on the liquor question, too.”
“Well, 'ere's luck,” said Joe, draining the glass. “Will you 'ave a slice of 'am?”
“That would not be amiss,” said Mr. Lavender, taking Joe's knife with the slice of ham upon its point. “'It is to them that we must look,'” he resumed, “'to rejuvenate the Empire and make good the losses in the firing-line.'” And he raised the knife to his mouth. No result followed, while Blink wriggled on her base and licked her lips.
“Blink!” said Mr. Lavender reproachfully. “Joe!”
“Sir!”
“When you've finished your lunch and repaired the car you will find me in the Town Hall or market-place. Take care of Blink. I'll tie her up. Have you some string?”
Having secured his dog to the handle of the door and disregarded the intensity of her gaze, Mr. Lavender walked back towards the Garden City with a pamphlet in one hand and a crutch-handled stick in the other. Restoring the ham to its nest behind his feet, Joe finished the bottle of Bass. “This is a bit of all right!” he thought dreamily. “Lie down, you bitch! Quiet! How can I get my nap while you make that row? Lie down! That's better.”
Blink was silent, gnawing at her string. The smile deepened on Joe's face, his head fell a little one side his mouth fell open a fly flew into it.
“Ah!” he thought, spitting it out; “dog's quiet now.” He slept.
III
MR. LAVENDER ADDRESSES A CROWD OF HUNS
“'Give them ginger!'” thought Mr. Lavender, approaching the first houses. “My first task, however, will be to collect them.”
“Can you tell me,” he said to a dustman, “where the market-place is?”
“Ain't none.”
“The Town Hall, then?”
“Likewise.”
“What place is there, then,” said Mr. Lavender, “where people congregate?”
“They don't.”
“Do they never hold public meetings here?”
“Ah!” said the dustman mysteriously.
“I wish to address them on the subject of babies.”
“Bill! Gent abaht babies. Where'd he better go?”
The man addressed, however, who carried a bag of tools, did not stop.
“You, 'ear?” said the dustman, and urging his horse, passed on.
“How rude!” thought Mr. Lavender. Something cold and wet was pressed against his hand, he felt a turmoil, and saw Blink moving round and round him, curved like a horseshoe, with a bit of string dangling from her white neck. At that moment of discouragement the sight of one who believed in him gave Mr. Lavender nothing but pleasure. “How wonderful dogs are!” he murmured. The sheep-dog responded by bounds and ear-splitting barks, so that two boys and a little girl wheeling a perambulator stopped to look and listen.
“She is like Mercury,” thought Mr. Lavender; and taking advantage of her interest in his hat, which she had knocked off in her effusions, he placed his hand on her head and crumpled her ear. The dog passed into an hypnotic trance, broken by soft grumblings of pleasure. “The most beautiful eyes in the world!” thought Mr. Lavender, replacing his hat; “the innocence and goodness of her face are entrancing.”
In his long holland coat, with his wide-brimmed felt hat all dusty, and the crutch-handled stick in his hand, he had already arrested the attention of five boys, the little girl with the perambulator, a postman, a maid-servant, and three old ladies.
“What a beautiful dog yours is!” said one of the old ladies; “dear creature! Are you a shepherd?”
Mr. Lavender removed his hat.
“No, madam,” he said; “a public speaker.”
“How foolish of me!” replied the old lady.
“Not at all, madam; the folly is mine.” And Mr. Lavender bowed. “I have come here to give an address on babies.”
The old lady looked at him shrewdly, and, saying something in a low voice to her companions, passed on, to halt again a little way off.
In the meantime the rumour that there was a horse down in the Clemenceau Road had spread rapidly, and more boys, several
