“For how much?” I asked.
“For five bob. Yes—on’y five bob! I axed vun pound, but the young lady was so pleasant an’ pritty that I come down to ten bob. Then she said she was poor—and to tell ’ee the plain truth she looked like it—an’ she wanted the pup so bad that I come down to five.”
“And who was this young lady?”
“Blow’d if I knows. She went off wi’ my Punch, an’ I never saw’d ’em more.”
“Then you don’t know what induced her to sell Punch to a low fellow—but of course you know nothing about that,” said I, in a musing tone, as I thought of the strange manner in which this portion of my doggie’s history had come to light, but I was recalled from my reverie by the contemptuous tones of my little companion’s voice, as he said—
“But I do know something about that.”
“Oh, indeed! I thought you said you never saw the young lady again.”
“No more I did. Neither did I ever see Punch again till to-day, but I know for certain that my young lady never sold no dog wotsomedever to no low feller as ever walked in shoe leather or out of it!”
“Ah, I see,” said I slowly, “you mean—”
“Yes, out with it, that’s just wot I do mean—that the low feller prigged the pup from her, an’ I on’y vish as I ’ad a grip of his ugly nose, and I’d draw it out from his uglier face, I would, like the small end of a telescope, and then shut it up flat again—so flat that you’d never know he’d had no nose at all!”