“One never knows what Third Cousin Annie will say,” replied Missie.
Mr. Martin smiled. “She said, ‘I am glad to get a thoroughbred; I am tired of curs.’”
I stared at Niger. He didn’t care—he was wagging his tail.
“Who is going for Billie?” said our Mary suddenly. “The veterinary has just telephoned that she is ready to come home.”
“I will,” said Mrs. Martin. “Mary dear, sit with your father while he has his lunch. Come on, Niger, and have a walk.”
“Oh! jus’ a crumb,” growled Niger, “jus’ a crumb, jus’ a crumb, crumb, crumb!”
They all burst out laughing. “You slyboots,” said Mrs. Martin, “we will stop in the kitchen and pick up a crumb as we go out.”
Niger told us afterward, that while he was in California, he had throat trouble, and Mrs. Ringworth had kindly spent a lot of money in having his throat doctored. But, he said, he had a lump there, until the night he ran back to his dear Mary, when in his emotion, something
seemed to break and he was growling out a strange sound he had never made before.
The children on the street nearly went crazy over his accomplishment, and Sammy-Sam used to lead him up and down, making him say “Jus’ a crumb,” till his throat was sore. He says it hurts him to say it, and he only does it in moments of deep feeling, or to please a friend.