“She’s master’s baby, she’s got to be amused.”
“But your master wouldn’t like her to do that.”
“She’ll get over it, when she’s older,” he said patiently. “A dog has got to have some worries, or life would be too sweet.”
“And you don’t like the idea of the farm?”
“A Bowery dog on a farm!” said Gringo. “Me for the pavements.”
“Were you ever on a farm?” I asked.
“No, and never want to be. I’ve heard tell what they’re like. Nothing doing from morning till night.”
“Well, I don’t like the country half as well as the city,” I said, “but I don’t believe I’ve ever been in a really interesting country place—I’ll tell you a great bit of news.”
“You don’t mean to say you’re going, too,” interrupted Gringo.
“Yes I do,” I said, “master is going to move to the country.”