Lady. But about the dog!
Countrywoman. Wal, the old man was a ridin’ along, slow, you know,—I alwers tell him he’ll never set the great pond afire,—and a countin’ over his cabbageheads and settlin’ the keg o’ molasses amongst ’em, and a little jug of—(nods and winks and smiles),—jest for a medicine, you know. For we never do,—I nor the old man,—never, ’xcept in case o’ sickness.
Lady (impatiently). But what about the dog?
Countrywoman. Wal, he was a ridin’ along, and jest got to the outskirts o’ the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin’ which should have a dog,—a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur—
Lady. Yes! Go on! Go on!
Countrywoman. And he asked ’em would they take fifty cents apiece and give it up. For he knew ’t would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they took the fifty.
Lady (eagerly). And what did he do with him? Where is he now?
Countrywoman. Why, I was goin’ to ride in with the old man this mornin’ to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And we happened to see that ’ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it out! (Opening bandbox.) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the crown o’ my bunnet Seems poorly, but he’ll pick up. (Takes out a white lapdog.)[A]
[A] A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.
Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him). ’T is my Carlo. O my precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and put him to sleep. (Rises to go out.)