“Is he?” said Trevor. The puppy was now on its back, legs limply aloft, and Trevor was thoughtfully rubbing a pink-and-white stomach.
“Was you wanting to buy a dog, sir?”
“N-no, I think not,” answered Trevor.
“Say, come on, Nesbitt, or we’ll be late,” cried Carl.
The stableman glanced over his shoulder. “Lots of time, gentlemen; train ain’t due for twelve minutes yet.” Then, addressing Trevor, “I had four of them and sold ’em all ’cept this one; an’ he’s the best of the lot; an’ cheap, too—dirt cheap.”
“How much?” asked Trevor with elaborate carelessness.
“You can have him for five dollars.”
“Phew!” said Stewart.
“Give you fifty cents,” said Carl. The stableman turned indignantly.