"They're all jealous," said Tom, "but they wouldn't touch 'er. A male dog scarcely ever attacks a female."
Molly proved to be a sweet, gentle creature, and allowed the boys to pat and stroke her hard little head.
"She's the genooine harticle," said Tom. "See the straight legs of 'er an' the square muzzle. She'll win something, or I'm no judge."
"She's a little smaller than some of them, isn't she?" asked Harry.
"Yes, but she's just about the right size for showing," said Tom. "Thirty-seven she weighs. I'm partial to the bigger dogs, myself, but the judges generally favor a smaller dog if he's got the points. Molly's certainly got the points."
Much to the edification of the boys, Tom went on to describe the standard points of the Airedale, illustrating with several of the dogs, all of whom seemed to be very fond of the kennelman. Then he took them in to see the bull terriers.
"'Ere's a different kind of dog entirely," he said. "As good a fighter and watchdog as the Hairedale, but not useful in so many ways. It's an older breed than the Hairedale. I can remember when the bull terrier was a heavier dog, and brindles were just as good as whites, but now they want only this kind in the shows, with a long skull and pure white. Eyes small and shaped like almonds, and set wide apart. That's the kind. The ears have to be cropped in this country to win prizes. Beastly custom. They don't do it in Hengland any more. I'm glad they let the Hairedales' ears alone."
For some time Tom Poultice discoursed learnedly on these two breeds and answered numerous questions.
"What-ho," he exclaimed suddenly. "'Ere's Mr. 'Artshorn coming. Get 'im to tell you about dogs. 'E knows a thing or two 'imself."