Imagine the astonishment of the children when Cinders pricked up his ears, rose on his hind legs, and, after gravely walking across the room once, began to walk round and round, keeping perfect time to the music!
“Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted Carl, his eyes sparkling. “Look at that! look at that! Tony, it ’tis the fortune after all! an’ I did find it in the ash-box!”
“Why, wot do you mean, Bub?” cried Tony, almost as excited as her brother. “Wot do you mean, an’ ware’s ‘the fortune?’”
“Why there, right afore your eyes. I mean Cinders is one o’ them orful smart hundred-dollar dogs wot does tricks. He’s bin lost by that circus wot went away night afore last, an’ he’s bin lost a-purpose to make my dreams come true! I’ll take him out the fust fine day, an’ we’ll bring home lots of stamps. You see if we don’t!”
“I’ll sell the papers,” said Tony, by this time quite as excited as her brother; “I kin do it, Carl. ‘’Ere’s the mornin’ Herald, Sun, Times an’ Tri-bune!’” imitating the shrill cry of the newsboy, and doing it very well, too, “an’ the fellers’ll be good to me, ’cos I’m your sister, an’ they like you.”
“You’re a brick, Tony!” said Carl, “an’ for sich a small brick the brickiest brick I ever knowed; but I kin sell ’em myself in the mornin’, an’ you kin take ’em in the afternoon, for that’s the time Cinders an’ me must perform. ‘Monseer Carlosky an’ his werry talented dog Cinders, son of the well-known French performing poodle Cinderella.’ How’s that, Tony? O I’ve read all about ’em on the circus bills, and that’s the way they do it. Yes, you’ll have to take the papers in the afternoon, cos then’s when the swell boys an’ gals is home from school,—’cept Saturdays, then we’ll be out most all day.”
“Dance more, Tinders, dance more!” here broke in little Lena; but Cinders stood looking at his master, evidently waiting for the music.
So Carl commenced whistling—did I tell you he whistled like a bird?—and Cinders once more marched gravely across the room, and then began waltzing again in the most comical manner.
He had evidently been trained to perform his tricks just twice; for when the music ceased this time he proceeded to stand on his head, and then sitting up on his hind legs, he nodded politely to the audience, and held out one of his paws, as much as to say, “Now pay if you please.”
The poor children forgot hunger and cold in their delight, and that miserable room resounded to more innocent, merry laughter that night than it had heard for many long years, perhaps ever before.