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Davis, Richard Harding, 1864-1916

"Ranson's Folly"

But my father pushes in front of me, walking
very daintily, and smiling sleepy, same as he had just been waked,
with his head high, and his eyes shut, looking at nobody.
So that is how I "came by my inheritance," as Miss Dorothy calls it,
and just for that, though I couldn't feel where I was any different,
the crowd follows me to my bench, and pats me, and coos at me, like I
was a baby in a baby-carriage. And the handlers have to hold 'em back
so that the gentlemen from the papers can make pictures of me, and
Nolan walks me up and down so proud, and the men shakes their heads
and says, "He certainly is the true type, he is!" And the pretty
ladies asks Miss Dorothy, who sits beside me letting me lick her
gloves to show the crowd what friends we is, "Aren't you afraid he'll
bite you?" and Jimmy Jocks calls to me, "Didn't I tell you so! I
always knew you were one of us. Blood will out, Kid, blood will out.
I saw your grandfather," says he, "make his debut at the Crystal
Palace. But he was never the dog you are!"
After that, if I could have asked for it, there was nothing I
couldn't get. You might have thought I was a snow-dog, and they was
afeerd I'd melt.


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