Amarilla hesitated, and looked at me in her timid way.
“Weary Winnie and Reddy think I’m a beauty,” said Gringo encouragingly, and with a hoarse laugh.
“I don’t think you’re exactly pretty,” began Amarilla shyly, then she stopped.
Gringo rolled over and over on the hearth-rug, in his amusement. “Oh! Amarilla! Oh!” he said chokingly.
“Feel any happier to-day, girlie?” I asked as she stretched herself out on the fender stool.
“Yes,” she said cheerfully, “missie weighed me to-day and I’m back to normal. Now you’re home, I’ve nothing to fret about.”
“Human beings happy, dogs happy,” said Gringo, “looks as if there was a green old age getting ripe for us. Boy, I wish every animal in the world had as good homes as we have.”
“Gringo,” I said enthusiastically, “that goes to my heart. Happiness for everybody, say I.”
“Write it down,” said the good old dog. “You know dog hearts pretty well. Say your say to the human beings. Maybe you’ll make it easier for some of the unhappy dogs.”