He went off, gathering the leaves into another pile at a little distance, and after a moment I followed him and stood with my back against a high brick vault.
"Is there any way, Uncle Methusalah, that you can grow up befo' yo' time?" I asked.
"Dar 'tis agin!" exclaimed the old negro, but he added kindly enough, "Dey tell me you kin do hit by stretchin', chile, but I ain' never seed hit wid my eyes, en w'at I ain' seed wid my eyes I ain' set much sto' by."
His scepticism, however, honest as it was, did not prevent my seizing upon the faint hope he offered, and I had just begun to stretch myself violently against the vault, when a voice speaking at my back brought my heels suddenly to the safe earth again.
"Boy," said the voice, "do you want a dog?"
Turning quickly I found myself face to face with the princess of the enchanted garden. She wore a fresh white coat and a furry white cap and a pair of red shoes that danced up and down. In her hand she carried a dirty twine string, the other end of which was tied about the neck of a miserable grey and white mongrel puppy.
"Do you want a dog, boy?" she repeated, as proudly as if she offered a canine prize.
The puppy was ugly, ill-bred, and dirty, but not an instant did I hesitate in the response I made.
"Yes, I want a dog," I answered as gravely as she had spoken.
She held out the string and my fist closed tightly over it. "I found him in the gutter," she explained, "and I gave him a plate of bread and milk because he is so young. Grandmama wouldn't let me keep him, as I have three others. I think it was very cruel of grandmama."