“Well, this is what I propose,” continued my father. “We’re not rich and we all work. In the summer we travel through the country and the children go and sell the goods to those who won’t take the trouble to come to us, but in the winter we haven’t much to do. Now you and Remi can go and play music in the streets. You’ll make quite a little money as Christmas draws near, but Ned and Allen must take Capi with them and he’ll make the people laugh with his tricks; in that way the talent will be distributed.”
“Capi won’t work well with any one but me,” I said quickly. I could not bear to be parted from my dog.
“He’ll learn to work with Allen and Ned easy,” said my father; “we’ll get more money this way.”
“Oh, but we’ll get ever so much more with Capi,” I insisted.
“That’s enough,” replied my father briefly; “when I say a thing I mean it. No arguments.”
I said nothing more. As I laid down in my bed that night Mattia whispered in my ear: “Now to-morrow you write to Mother Barberin.” Then he jumped into bed.
But the next morning I had to give Capi his lesson, I took him in my arms and while I gently kissed him on his cold nose, I explained to him what he had to do; poor doggy! how he looked at me, how he listened! I then put his leash in Allen’s hand and he followed the two boys obediently, but with a forlorn air.
My father took Mattia and me across London where there were beautiful houses, splendid streets with wide pavements, and carriages that shone like glass, drawn by magnificent horses and driven by big fat coachmen with powdered wigs. It was late when we got back to Red Lion Court, for the distance from the West End to Bethnal-Green is great. How pleased I was to see Capi again. He was covered with mud, but in a good humor. I was so pleased to see him, that after I had rubbed him well down with dry straw, I wrapped him in my sheepskin and made him sleep in my bed.
Things went on this way for several days. Mattia and I went one way and Capi, Ned, and Allen another. Then one evening my father told me that we could take Capi the next day with us, as he wanted the two boys to do something in the house. Mattia and I were very pleased and we intended to do our utmost to bring back a good sum of money so that he would let us have the dog always. We had to get Capi back and we would not spare ourselves, neither one of us. We made Capi undergo a severe washing and combing early in the morning, then we went off.
Unfortunately for our plan a heavy fog had been hanging over London for two entire days. It was so dense that we could only see a few steps before us, and those who listened to us playing behind these fog curtains could not see Capi. It was a most annoying state of affairs for our “takings.” Little did we think how indebted we should be to the fog a few minutes later. We were walking through one of the most popular streets when suddenly I discovered that Capi was not with us. This was extraordinary, for he always kept close at our heels. I waited for him to catch up with us. I stood at the entrance of a dark alley and whistled softly, for we could see but a short distance. I was beginning to fear that he had been stolen from us when he came up on the run, holding a pair of woolen stockings between his teeth. Placing his fore paws against me he presented them to me with a bark. He seemed as proud as when he had accomplished one of his most difficult tricks and wanted my approval. It was all done in a few seconds. I stood dumbfounded. Then Mattia seized the stockings with one hand and pulled me down the alley with the other.