_(He hustles the Airedale to
a small office, where he shuts him in--to his and his owner's intense
disapproval. A fox-terrier in another customer's arms becomes hysterical
with sympathy and utters ear-rending barks.)_ Oh, kindly get that dawg
to sherrup, Mum, or we'll 'ave the lot of 'em orf; or could you look in
some day when he's more collected?
_Another Lady_. I say, I want a muzzle for my dog.
_Assistant (sardonically)._ You surprise me, Mum! We're very near sold
out, but if you'll let me 'ave a look at your dawg, p'r'aps--
_The Lady_. Oh, I haven't _brought_ him. Left him at Barnes.
_Assistant. 'Ave_ yer, Mum? Well, yer see, I can't run down to
Barnes--not just now I can't.
_The Lady_. No, but I thought--he's rather a large dog, a Pekinese
spaniel.
_Assistant_. Then I couldn't fit 'im if 'e was 'ere, cos 'e'd want a
short muzzle and we've run out o' them.
_A Customer with a Pekinese_. Then will you find me a muzzle for _this_
one?
_Assistant (with resigned despair)._ You jest 'eard me say we 'ad no
short muzzles, Mum. If you don't mind waiting 'ere an hour or two I'll
send a man to the factory in a taxi to bring back a fresh stock--if
they've got any, which I don't guarantee.
_The Customer with the Pekinese.
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