书城外语Stories by English Authors in London
19508100000015

第15章 THE BLACK POODLE BY F. ANSTEY(8)

"You can't think," I heard Mrs. Currie telling my mother, "how really/touching/ it was to see poor Bingo's emotion at seeing all the old familiar objects again! He went up and sniffed at them all in turn, quite plainly recognising everything. And he was quite put out to find that we had moved his favourite ottoman out of the drawing-room. But he /is/ so penitent too, and so ashamed of having run away; he kept under a chair in the hall all the morning; he wouldn't come in here, either, so we had to leave him in your garden.""He's been sadly out of spirits all day," said Lilian; "he hasn't bitten one of the tradespeople.""Oh, /he's/ all right, the rascal!" said the colonel, cheerily. "He'll be after the cats again as well as ever in a day or two.""Ah, those cats!" said my poor innocent mother. "Algy, you haven'ttried the air-gun on them again lately, have you? They're worse than ever." I troubled the colonel to pass the claret. Travers laughed for the first time. "That's a good idea," he said, in that carrying "bar-mess" voice of his; "an air-gun for cats, ha, ha! Make good bags, eh, Weatherhead?" I said thatI did, /very/ good bags, and felt I was getting painfully red in the face. "Oh, Algy is an excellent shot--quite a sportsman," said my mother. "Iremember, oh, long ago, when we lived at Hammersmith, he had a pistol, and he used to strew crumbs in the garden for the sparrows, and shoot at them out of the pantry window; he frequently hit one.""Well," said the colonel, not much impressed by these sporting reminiscences, "don't go rolling over our Bingo by mistake, you know, Weatherhead, my boy. Not but what you've a sort of right after this-- only don't. I wouldn't go through it all twice for anything.""If you really won't take any more wine," I said, hurriedly, addressing the colonel and Travers, "suppose we all go out and have our coffee on the lawn? It--it will be cooler there." For it was getting very hot indoors, I thought.

I left Travers to amuse the ladies--he could do no more harm now; and, taking the colonel aside, I seized the opportunity, as we strolled up and down the garden path, to ask his consent to Lilian's engagement to me. He gave it cordially. "There's not a man in England," he said, "that I'd sooner see her married to after to-day. You're a quiet, steady young fellow, and you've a good kind heart. As for the money, that's neither here nor there; Lilian won't come to you without a penny, you know. But really, my boy, you can hardly believe what it is to my poor wife and me to see that dog. Why, bless my soul, look at him now! What's the matter with him, eh?"To my unutterable horror, I saw that that miserable poodle, after begging unnoticed at the tea-table for some time, had retired to an open space before it, where he was industriously standing on his head.

We gathered round and examined the animal curiously, as he continued to balance himself gravely in his abnormal position. "Good gracious, John," cried Mrs. Currie, "I never saw Bingo do such a thing before in his life!""Very odd," said the colonel, putting up his glasses; "never learned thatfrom /me/."

"I tell you what I fancy it is," I suggested wildly. "You see, he was always a sensitive, excitable animal, and perhaps the--the sudden joy of his return has gone to his head--/upset/ him, you know."They seemed disposed to accept this solution, and, indeed, I believe they would have credited Bingo with every conceivable degree of sensibility; but I felt myself that if this unhappy animal had many more of these accomplishments I was undone, for the original Bingo had never been a dog of parts.

"It's very odd," said Travers, reflectively, as the dog recovered his proper level, "but I always thought that it was half the /right/ ear that Bingo had lost.""So it is, isn't it?" said the colonel. "Left, eh? Well, I thought myself it was the right."My heart almost stopped with terror; I had altogether forgotten that. I hastened to set the point at rest. "Oh, it /was/ the left," I said, positively; "I know it because I remember so particularly thinking how odd it was that it/should/ be the left ear, and not the right!" I told myself this should be positively my last lie.

"/Why/ odd?" asked Frank Travers, with his most offensive Socratic manner.

"My dear fellow, I can't tell you," I said, impatiently; "everything seems odd when you come to think at all about it.""Algernon," said Lilian, later on, "will you tell Aunt Mary and Mr. Travers and--me how it was you came to find Bingo? Mr. Travers is quite anxious to hear all about it."I could not very well refuse; I sat down and told the story, all my own way. I painted Blagg perhaps rather bigger and blacker than life, and described an exciting scene, in which I recognised Bingo by his collar in the streets, and claimed and bore him off then and there in spite of all opposition.

I had the inexpressible pleasure of seeing Travers grinding his teeth with envy as I went on, and feeling Lilian's soft, slender hand glide silently into mine as I told my tale in the twilight.

All at once, just as I reached the climax, we heard the poodle barking furiously at the hedge which separated my garden from the road.

"There's a foreign-looking man staring over the hedge," said Lilian; "Bingo always /did/ hate foreigners."There certainly was a swarthy man there, and, though I had no reason for it then, somehow my heart died within me at the sight of him.