“Oh, Bob! You never can remember where you leave your cap when you come in!” exclaimed his mother. “Now that you have a dog I think you had better train him to hunt your cap, and other things for you. That would be a good kind of hunting dog.”
“I guess it would,” laughed Bob. “Well, come on, Don.”
Bob put Don down on the floor, but the puppy dog, instead of running to his little master, when he was called, ran over toward the girl who was playing with a doll. I guess Don had never seen a doll before.
“Here, sir! Come here when I call you!” cried Bob, snapping his fingers.
But Don paid no attention.
“He likes me best!” said the girl, with a laugh. “Come to me, Don.”
“No, Sallie, you mustn’t do that, dear,” said her mother. “If Bob is to have a dog it must learn to mind him, and come when he calls. A dog is not of much use unless it minds. First let the dog learn to go to Bob, and then he will teach it to come to you when you call.”
“That’s what I will,” promised Bob. “Now, Don, you come to me!”
Don had not yet learned to mind. He still wanted to go to the little girl named Sallie. But Bob was not going to have that. So he stooped over and picked up Don, giving him a little shake, but, of course, not hurting him in the least. For Bob would not do that.