One morning Mary and Rags were sitting on the doorstep watching the people when a black-eyed man came by.
“That’s a very fine poodle,” said he.
“Indeed, he is,” cried Mary. “He’s my very own and I love him more than anything else.”
“Can he do any tricks?” asked the man.
“I should say so,” said Mary, for she had taught the dog all he knew. “Just watch him.”
Rags stood on his head and danced, and even tried to speak by little barks. The man asked Mary if she would sell him.
“No, indeed, I won’t,” answered Mary, “he is my own Rags and I cannot let you have him.”
The man seemed to be very angry, and went away.
The next morning the black-eyed man came back and again asked Mary to sell him the dog. Mary again refused. Suddenly he glanced hastily up and down the street, and seeing no one, grabbed Rags from Mary’s arms and fled. Mary screamed and tried to follow, but her poor little crutch would not let her. She sobbed and cried until she grew white and cold, and her mother found her in a little heap on the floor with her little crutch beside her.