“Is it a trick dog?” asked the boy.
“Do you want a trick dog?” questioned Wendell.
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, it is a trick dog,” said Wendell. “Just you get out here,” for meantime they were nearing Park Street, “and I’ll show him to you. I live right near here.”
“What tricks can he do?” asked the boy.
“You wait and ask him,” said Wendell.
Once out of the Subway, Wendell left the boy on a bench on the Common, and sprinted across the green expanse, in spite of the official sign,
KEEP OFF THE GRASS
IF YOU WANT TO ROAM
JOIN THE NAVY
He shot around the corner of his street, circled the Wishing Stone rapidly nine times, climbed on top of it and said to himself,
“I wish for a trick dog that will do any trick you tell him to.”