As he talked to the utterly crestfallen pup, he was ransacking a drawer of his desk in search of a dogwhip he had put there long ago and had never had occasion to use.
Presently, he found it.

Pointing to the overthrown trophy, he brought the lash down across the shrinking collie's loins.

He did not strike hard.

But he struck half a dozen times; and with glum knowledge that it was the only course to take.
Never before in her eight foolish months of life, had Lady known the meaning of a blow.

While the whip-slashes were too light to do more than sting her well-mattressed back, yet the humiliation of them seared deep into her sensitive nature.