It's not mine.
Oh, no; I'm only taking care of it for a friend. But it's a retriever all
right, and a good one, mark you, though not a pedigree dog. My friend wants
a good home for it. He's very particular about that. Kind, nice people, you
know. Bones. I dare say you know him," Mr. Amos added: "Mr. Bateman, who
keeps the Bricklayers' Arms."
How funny, Gregory thought, to keep bricklayers' arms! And he wondered why
the bricklayers didn't keep their own arms, and who kept their legs, and he
might have asked if Mr. Amos had not called to a boy named Jim to "bring
Tartar over here, and look slippy."
While Jim was bringing Tartar,--who lived in a tub, and must therefore, Mr.
Lenox said, be called in future Diogenes,--Mr. Amos reminded them how much
more likely one is to get good watch-work from a dog who is not of the
highest breeding than from a prize-winner. "As I often say," he added, "you
can have too much blood; that you can. Too much blood. It's the only fault
of many of my dogs."
Diogenes now stood before them, looking by no means overburdened with blood
and extremely ready for a new home.
Mr. Lenox asked why Mr. Amos thought he was a good watch-dog.
"Think!" said Mr. Amos. "I don't think; I know.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50