Ranson's Folly

by Richard Harding Davis

“It does not!” says “Mr. Wyndham, sir,” short-like.

“Aren't you sure, Nolan?” says Miss Dorothy.

“No, Miss,” says the Master.

“Sire unknown,” says “Mr. Wyndham, sir,” and writes it down.

“Date of birth?” asks “Mr. Wyndham, sir.”

“I—I—unknown, sir,” says Nolan. And “Mr. Wyndham, sir,” writes it down.

“Breeder?” says “Mr. Wyndham, sir.”

“Unknown,” says Nolan, getting very red around the jaws, and I drops my head and tail. And “Mr. Wyndham, sir,” writes that down.

“Mother's name?” says “Mr. Wyndham, sir.”

“She was a—unknown,” says the Master. And I licks his hand.