“I do take exercise,” she said. “I come here every night, and watch the folks.”
“Do you call that exercise?” I said disdainfully. “Why, that’s nothing. You should run back and forth for hours. Come in here through this door into this courtyard. I’ll show you how.”
My paws were beginning to get pretty sore by this time, for I had run far that day. However, I notice I always have bad luck, if I don’t stop to help some lame dog or cat over a stile. So I leaped and gambolled round that dark courtyard, and made her do likewise, till her lugubriousness had all faded away.
“I declare I feel like ten cats all rolled in one,” she said holding her head up, and mewing gratefully.
“Now you just come here every night and do this,” I said, “and cut the meat out of your bill-of-fare. Hope on, and if you can’t do anything for yourself, and if I get a good billet, I’ll do something for you.”
“Oh! what will you do?” she mewed anxiously, as she followed me back to Broadway.
“How can I tell, my friend,” I replied. “I’m a dog that acts on impulse. Good-bye, and good luck to you.”
“So long,” she said sweetly. “You’ve brought me hope and cheer. Oh! do come soon again.”
I laughed, and tossed my head as I left her. Who could tell when we should meet again? “You spruce up, and do something for yourself,” I called back. “You’re the best friend you’ve got. Remember that.”
I travelled up Broadway for a while, in a brown study. What a pity that so many of us like the city. The country is certainly better for us. Why didn’t I stay in lovely old Virginia?