“Well, well,” said the judge, as Duke trotted up and presented the hat to him; “well, well, Bob, you’ve a fine dog, sir; a gentlemanly fellow, upon my word. You’ve trained him well, Bob. He does you credit, he does indeed.”
Bob rapped Billy with his elbow, as much as to say, “Here’s your golden opportunity; speak up!”
“He’s mine, sir,” Billy blurted out.
“Yours!” said the judge, removing his hand from the canine head he was actually condescending to pat; “yours!”
Encouraged by another rap Billy continued:
“You can’t say that he’s ever given you any trouble, father. He’s never eaten a mouthful at home.”
“What do you think of such deception, sir?” said his father. “Do you mean to tell me that you have been boarding him out?”
“No, sir; he lives on charity. Bob supports him.”
“Charity!” said his father. “What do you mean, sir?”
But as he dusted the “Pet and Pride,” caressing it as of old, he took a kindly peep at the little head by his knee, and gave it one more pat before moving away.