"Yes, ma'am," said Amity. She would hardly have answered "Yes" so readily if she had not been thinking more about Pug than herself.
She hurried away to the stable, her heart boiling over with anger and pity.
"To think that she would not even look at the poor thing!" said she. "I don't believe she can love anything."
Amity was nearly right. Miss Julia had lived for amusement so long that she really cared for very little else. She had bought Pug because he was of a very pure and rare breed, and because it was the fashion to have such a dog; and also because another lady wanted him. He had amused her for a while with his tricks for he was an accomplished dog, but she had grown tired of him lately.
"Pugs were growing common, like everything else," she said.
She thought she must have a Japanese spaniel.
Lewis, Mrs. Barnard's coachman, was sitting on a block by the stable door talking to William, her grandfather's man. He started at the sight of Amity and the pug-dog.
"What in the world brings you down here, Miss Amity? Has anything happened?"
Amity told her story, and the men clustered round to look at the dog.
"Stand away, can't you, and don't crowd the young lady," said Lewis, who was a very genteel colored man indeed. "'Pears like you ain't no manners at all. Haven't you got a basket or something to put him in, William?"