Confess that I felt somewhat doubtful of the truth of this story; but, in order to prevent any expression of my face betraying me, I stooped and patted the dog while the man spoke. It received my attentions with evident delight. A thought suddenly flashed on me:—
“Will you sell your little dog?” I asked.
“Vy, sir,” he replied, with some hesitation, “I don’t quite like to do that. He’s such a pure breed, and—and he’s so fond o’ me.”
“But have you not told me that you are obliged to part with him?”
I thought the man looked puzzled for a moment, but only for a moment. Turning to me with a bland smile, he said, “Ah, sir I that’s just where it is. I am obleeged to part with him, but I ain’t obleeged to sell him. If I on’y part with ’im, my friend keeps ’im for me, and we may meet again, but if I sell ’im, he’s gone for ever! Don’t you see? Hows’ever, if you wants ’im wery bad, I’ll do it on one consideration.”
“And that is?”
“That you’ll be good to ’im.”
I began to think I had misjudged the man. “What’s his name?” I asked.
Again for one moment there was that strange, puzzled look in the man’s face, but it passed, and he turned with another of his bland smiles.
“His name, sir? Ah, his name? He ain’t got no name, sir!”