“But she may belong to some one.”
“I’ll find that out,” said master, and he did, for he put a dog-detective on Amarilla’s track. The man found out all about her. She had been stolen by a tramp, who sold her to the dog-show man.
Master visited the show, and was struck with horror at the appearance of the animals. Sitting near the stage, he saw that they were all terrified of their master. He threatened the man with prosecution, took all his dogs from him, allowing him a good sum; and best of all, finding out that he hated the show business and wanted to be a chauffeur, but couldn’t afford the training, he put him in a garage and paid his way handsomely.
That was master all over—to make a good thing out of an apparently bad one. He and Mr. Bonstone were always doing it. Mr. Bonstone had more practical knowledge of the ways of evil-doers than master had. Master belonged to a fine old New York family, and had never lived with all sorts and conditions of men, as Mr. Bonstone had.
Mr. Bonstone was as ardent a dog-lover as master was, and he bundled the whole dog show out to his farm, where they were months in recuperating. They had been starved, beaten, not exercised, and two of them had to be mercifully put out of the way. There were left two white poodles, they called the Frenchmen, a mongrel, Yeggie by name, a miniature bull-dog called Weary Winnie, Czarina, a Russian wolf-hound, a Dandie Dinmont terrier called Cannie, and a bloodhound, King Harry, and after a while we all got acquainted with them. That was after the great change came in our lives—the moving from the city to the country.
I must not forget to say that Amarilla proved a great success as a pet dog for mistress. She did not care for very much exercise. She followed mistress from one room to another of the apartment—in fact, she was like a little shadow, and oh! how she loved the baby. She would sit by his perambulator for hours, and if any stranger came near, she barked in her little, shrill voice.
Now, I get very fond of certain human beings, and no dog could love a master better than I love Mr. Granton, but I never could keep at his heels all the time.
However, Mrs. Granton didn’t seem to mind being shadowed, and Amarilla adored doing it, so there was no reason why they should not both be satisfied. Every man and every dog to his liking, and that reminds me, how, oh! how am I going to like the country? The time is drawing near for our removal. Mr. Bonstone has found a beautiful estate for master. The change in my life is going to be positive. I don’t want to run away again. I want to stay with this nice man, but can I, if he leaves my beloved New York?