II
“Well—what's your name—Nolan? Well, Nolan, these references are satisfactory,” said the young gentleman. My new Master called “Mr. Wyndham, sir.”
“I'll take you on as second man. You can begin to-day.”
My new Master shuffled his feet, and put his finger to his forehead. “Thank you, sir,” says he. Then he choked like he had swallowed a fish-bone. “I have a little dawg, sir,” says he.
“You can't keep him,” says “Mr. Wyndham, sir,” very short.
“'Es only a puppy, sir,” says my new Master; “'e wouldn't go outside the stables, sir.”
“It's not that,” says “Mr. Wyndham, sir;” “I have a large kennel of very fine dogs; they're the best of their breed in America. I don't allow strange dogs on the premises.”
The Master shakes his head, and motions me with his cap, and I crept out from behind the door. “I'm sorry, sir,” says the Master. “Then I can't take the place. I can't get along without the dog, sir.”
“Mr. Wyndham, sir,” looked at me that fierce that I guessed he was going to whip me, so I turned over on my back and begged with my legs and tail.