“Vell, you are a rum ’un. But I say, all square? No dodges? Honour bright?”
“No dodges. Honour bright,” I replied.
“Come along.”
At this point my attention was attracted by a sudden change in the behaviour of Dumps. He went cautiously towards the boy, and snuffed as him for a moment.
“I say, is he wicious?” he asked, backing a little.
“I think not, but—”
I was checked in my speech by the little dog uttering a whine of delight and suddenly dancing round the boy, wagging its tail violently, and indeed wriggling its whole shapeless body with joy; as some dogs are wont to do when they meet with an old friend unexpectedly.
“Why, he seems to know you,” said I, in surprise.
“Vell, he do seem to ’ave ’ad the honour of my acquaintance some’ow,” returned the boy, whose tone of banter quickly passed away. “What d’ee call ’im?”
“Dumps,” said I.