“I’m not,” I said hurriedly. “I like you. You’re a regular sport.”
“I used to be,” he said, settling down on the straw with a groan, “but my joints—the rheumatiz has got me. I’m not like I used to be—Come on now, reel off your life yarn. I’ve got an hour to spare. What’s your name, and where were you born, and where are you going?”
“With your powers of observation, you ought to be able to answer all those questions for yourself,” I said demurely.
He looked me all over, with his fine dark eyes. “You haven’t got a name,” he said with a snort, “or rather you have many names. You’re a travelling dog. You were born anywhere, and you don’t know where you’re going.”
I burst into such a delighted yell of laughter that he told me to shut up, or some one might hear us.
“What’s the matter with you?” I asked wonderingly. “And what’s the matter with all the dogs here? I never saw such a cowed looking set.”
“We’re listening for the cops,” he said angrily. “We’ve got a new health commissioner and he’s a——”
“Yes, yes,” I interjected hurriedly, “a dear fellow. He doesn’t understand dogs probably.”
“Understand them—he’s a fool. He says it’s the citizens first, if every dog has to go. He’s muzzled every one of us, even when led on a leash. He wants to make little old New York a dogless city.”
“I suppose it’s the old rabies scare,” I said.