"Large fawn mastiff, answers to the name of 'Rory Bean,' black face and
perfectly gentle. I got quite wearied out in giving over and over again
the same account. However, to cut a long story short, she was at last
discovered by the butler, who heard her frantic baying a mile off in the
centre of Hyde Park, and brought her back, and so ended Rory Bean's last
season in London.
"A few days before this escapade I took out Rory in one of the few
squares where dogs are still allowed to accompany their masters. Bean
had a naive way, when bored, of inviting you or any casual passer-by
that she might chance to see, to a good game of romps with her. Her
method was very simple. She would run round barking, but her voice was
very deep, as of a voice in some subterranean cavern; and with strangers
this did not invariably awaken on their side a joyous reciprocity.
Somehow, big dogs always ignore their size.
"They have a confirmed habit of creeping under tiny tables, and hanker
after squeezing themselves through impossible gaps. Being, as a rule,
quite innocent of all desire to injure any member of the human race,
they cannot realise that it is possible that they in their turn can
frighten anybody.
"I remember on this particular occasion that I was interested in my
book, and that when Rory had barked round me I had refused to play with
her. For some time she had lain down quietly beside me, when suddenly an
old gentleman came into view.
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