Ugly Dog complains to Sly Fox.
He crawled into the bushes at the side of the road and laid down to rest. He was all covered with dust, and his eyes were red and his tongue was hanging out.
“Well,” said Sly Fox, who had just come up through the bushes, “You do not seem to be very happy this morning. What is the matter?”
“I can’t go to the station any more,” growled Ugly Dog, “because I can’t run fast enough to keep up with those miserable little houses that go sliding away as soon as my master gets on the back steps.”
“It seems to me,” said Sly Fox, “that for a dog that has such a fine face you do not know very much. I understand why it is that the Running Houses do not stop—you are not polite enough to the man at the front door.”
“What am I to do?” asked Ugly Dog.
“O, that is very simple,” answered Sly Fox. “You must be very particular about how you act. Nobody ever succeeds unless he is polite and always says please. You know that I am very wise, and if you only listen to me, you may never have any more trouble.”
“I am all ears,” said Ugly Dog, folding his arms and looking as humble as Jack Rabbit.