As Gringo was speaking, two of the dogs in the performing troupe that Amarilla belonged to, came round the corner of the house. They are two beautiful snow-white French poodles, and have exquisite manners. When they first came out, they were thin and frightened. That was before we arrived. By the time we came, they were fat and prosperous and happy looking dogs. On the stage, they had worn their hair clipped in the approved fashion for poodles, and their forelocks were tied up with ribbon.
Mrs. Bonstone took the ribbons off, for she wanted them to be real dogs, she said, and they are only clipped now when warm weather comes, and then all over.
It does Gringo and me all the good in the world to see the quiet delight these two handsome dogs take in their well-ordered life here. They are full of interest in American life. They were born in Paris, and at first they thought the whole world was bounded by the Seine where they used to be taken to be washed. Then they were sold to this dreadful man, Fifeson, who beat them sometimes, but not nearly as often as he beat Amarilla, for poodles are naturally splendid trick dogs, and learn things easily.
“Gringo,” I said, “do you think these dogs are any different from other dogs who have never been treated cruelly?”
“’Course I do,” he growled. “Don’t you see they ain’t like you and me?”
“Yes, I see it,” I replied, “but I wanted to know whether you did.”
“Their spirit’s broken,” he said. “The Frenchmen are happy, but there’s a look in their eye, as if they wouldn’t be surprised any minute, if some one up and struck them.”
“Weary Winnie doesn’t show it as much as they do,” I said.
Gringo grinned. Weary Winnie was his pet among the showman’s dogs. She was a fat, lazy, young miniature bull-dog with a wrinkled muzzle that looked as if she were always smelling something disagreeable and one white tooth that stuck out beyond the others. She came of grand stock, but was rather stupid, and had played an old woman on the stage, being dressed up in a shawl and bonnet. Amarilla says her beatings were awful, for she couldn’t seem to learn the simplest thing. The showman made her hold things in her mouth, and at last he had to give up the pipe, for she always let it fall out. Finally he tied a basket to her lips, and the string hurt her.