“Thank you,” I said bowing to him, “I’m for free speech. Say what you like, as long as you’re not insulting.”
“He was insulting,” said the whole group of dogs. “He said that Riverside Drive would soon be German.”
“That’s not insulting,” I replied, “why, that’s flattering. Think what a nice place it must be, if the Germans want it.”
Every dog showed his teeth—I don’t know what the upshot would have been, if their various owners had not called them and put their muzzles on. While we had been gossiping, the ladies had been talking together. They were very nice ladies, and law-abiding in general, but they did so hate the muzzle law, and were so sorry to see their poor dogs pawing their noses in misery, that they had the habit of carrying the muzzles in their hands, and slipping them on the dogs when they saw a policeman coming. It certainly was absurd to see baby spaniels, and toy dogs of all kinds with muzzles on their tiny noses. They couldn’t have bitten hard if they had tried.
As the dogs who had been growling about the Dachshund left, they threw furious backward glances at the conceited little scamp who ran up to me, and licked gratefully a little piece of mud off my back.
“Danke schön,” he murmured.
“Can’t you control yourself a bit?” I asked, “and not be so indiscreet? There wasn’t a German dog in that crowd. You’d have had a bite or two, if I hadn’t come along.”
“It was for the Fatherland,” he exclaimed, “and the sacred domestic hearth prized by dogs as well as men.”
“You say that like a little parrot,” I remarked, “and I don’t believe you bullied that griffon on your own responsibility. You’ve always been a good dog up to within a week. Who’s been coaching you?”
The little dog instead of answering, looked mad, and nipped me quite quickly on the hind leg.