Mrs. Steiner was so weak from fright that she had to hold to the open door for support; and tears were running down Fritz's cheeks. They all hoped that the man would leave, but no, he wanted money. He changed his reason for demanding it, claiming that he should have payment for the injury to his dog.
"Asking for money when your wild beast dragged our poor Pixy over the floor as if he were a bundle of old rags?" cried Mrs. Steiner in astonishment.
"Your dog commenced it! He snarled at my dog."
"He did it from fright, I think, and your dog bit him and tore out some of his silky, black hair, and Pixy is now lying under the sofa, his teeth chattering from fear."
"What do I care where he is! If my Turk mastered him, that is not saying that my dog is not hurt."
"So your dog is not named Pixy but Turk," commented Mrs. Steiner.
The man took no notice of this; his object was money and he resolved to get it.
"I should have a dollar at least for my trouble," he said.
"I wish a policeman would happen along. There are not enough of them in Frankfort," remarked Mrs. Steiner. "Look out of the windows, boys, and if you see one beckon to him to come. I would give a dollar this minute to see one."
"Why should you give a dollar to a policeman? Give the dollar to me, and
I will go and take my dog."