But I'd think of her snooping in the gutters,
or freezing of nights under the bridges, or, what's worse of all,
running through the hot streets with her tongue down, so wild and
crazy for a drink, that the people would shout "mad dog" at her, and
stone her. Water's so good, that I don't blame the men-folks for
locking it up inside their houses, but when the hot days come, I
think they might remember that those are the dog-days and leave a
little water outside in a trough, like they do for the horses. Then
we wouldn't go mad, and the policemen wouldn't shoot us. I had so
much of everything I wanted that it made me think a lot of the days
when I hadn't nothing, and if I could have given what I had to
mother, as she used to share with me, I'd have been the happiest dog
in the land. Not that I wasn't happy then, and most grateful to the
Master, too, and if I'd only minded him, the trouble wouldn't have
come again.
But one day the coachman says that the little lady they called Miss
Dorothy had come back from school, and that same morning she runs
over to the stables to pat her ponies, and she sees me.
"Oh, what a nice little, white little dog," said she; "whose little
dog are you?" says she.
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