“Oh,” said Mr. Povey, largely, “I don’t know.”
“Will ye run to a tenner?”
“I thought of something cheaper.”
“Well, hoo much? Out wi’ it, mester.”
“Not more than two pounds,” said Mr. Povey. He would have said one pound had he dared. The prices of dogs amazed him.
“I thowt it was a dog as ye wanted!” said Boon. “Look ‘ere, mester. Come up to my yard and see what I’ve got.”
“I will,” said Mr. Povey.
“And bring missis along too. Now, what about a cat for th’ missis? Or a gold-fish?”
The end of the episode was that a young lady aged some twelve months entered the Povey household on trial. Her exiguous legs twinkled all over the parlour, and she had the oddest appearance in the parlour. But she was so confiding, so affectionate, so timorous, and her black nose was so icy in that hot weather, that Constance loved her violently within an hour. Mr. Povey made rules for her. He explained to her that she must never, never go into the shop. But she went, and he whipped her to the squealing point, and Constance cried an instant, while admiring her husband’s firmness.
The dog was not all.