“No name!” I exclaimed, in surprise.
“No, sir; I object to givin’ dogs names on principle. It’s too much like treatin’ them as if they wos Christians; and, you know, they couldn’t be Christians if they wanted to ever so much. Besides, wotever name you gives ’em, there must be so many other dogs with the same name, that you stand a chance o’ the wrong dog comin’ to ’e ven you calls.”
“That’s a strange reason. How then do you call him to you?”
“Vy, w’en I wants ’im I shouts ‘Hi,’ or ‘Hallo,’ or I vistles.”
“Indeed,” said I, somewhat amused by the humour of the fellow; “and what do you ask for him?”
“Fi’ pun ten, an’ he’s dirt cheap at that,” was the quick reply.
“Come, come, my man, you know the dog is not worth that.”
“Not worth it, sir!” he replied, with an injured look; “I tell you he’s cheap at that. Look at his breedin’, and then think of his affectionate natur’. Is the affections to count for nuffin’?”
Admitted that the affections were worth money, though it was generally understood that they could not be purchased, but still objected to the price, until the man said in a confidential tone—
“Vell, come, sir, since you do express such a deal o’ love for ’im, and promise to be so good to ’im, I’ll make a sacrifice and let you ’ave ’im for three pun ten—come!”