“And what did he say to that?” asked Gringo.
“He didn’t say anything. He got up and kissed her. They understand each other pretty well now, and the next day, which was yesterday, he spoke to your master, and asked him to look for a place near yours. So you’ll probably have us for neighbours, old boy. Isn’t that great?” and I gave him a playful nip in his big shoulder.
Gringo was deeply pleased, but he’s like his master, he doesn’t say much.
“We’re both no longer quite young,” I went on, “and we’ve just got to make up our minds to like what our owners do. I prophesy that two clever men like your master and mine can make even country life interesting.”
“Wait till they deliver the goods,” said the old dog; then he added, “They’ll be missed in this little old city.”
“But they won’t leave it finally,” I said. “They’re planning to come in and out.”
I knew what he referred to. Mr. Bonstone and my master had been placing more and more of their business in the hands of their employees, and together they went about the city doing good. They had found out that a lot of harm results in many cases, from rich people putting all of their charitable work in the care of hirelings.
“Man to man,” master used to say, “I want to know those I’m privileged to help,” so often he left his office early, and he visited such poor places, that usually I was not allowed to go with him. I heard him telling his wife about the terrible suffering he found.
“We’ll have a war,” he used to say often, “unless there’s more contact between class and class.”