“And he’s the neatest dog that I ever heard of,—he wont come into the house with dirty paws,” added Kate.
“No,” continued Marcus, “and once when we had our floors newly painted, and boards were laid to step upon, Rover understood the arrangement as well as we did, and was careful to walk upon the boards until the paint was dry.”
“We had a strange dog come to our house last winter, that knew something,” said Otis. “He knocked at the door, just as well as a man could have done it. Mother went to see who had come, and she found nothing but a dog. As soon as he saw her, he began to cry like a baby, he was so cold and hungry. So she gave him some dinner, and let him warm himself, and then he went off, and we never saw him again. But he knocked at the door,—tap, tap, tap,—so you couldn’t have told him from a man.”
“I could tell a story that would beat that,” said Oscar. “I knew a dog in Boston that would open any door that was fastened by a latch, without stopping to knock; and he’d shut it, too, if you told him to.”
“I could tell a story that would beat all of yours,” said Ronald. “It’s about a dog that unlocks doors; and if he can’t find the key, he will hunt up a piece of wire, and pick the lock!”
“Why, Ronald Page! how dare you tell such a lie?” exclaimed Kate, after the laugh that followed this sally had subsided.
“It wasn’t a lie,” replied Ronald. “I didn’t say a dog ever did that—I said I could tell a story about a dog that did it, and so I can.”
“It’s a lie, for all that; I’ll leave it to Marcus if it isn’t,” rejoined Kate.
“Not exactly a lie, although it looks something like it,” observed Marcus. “Ronald could not have intended to deceive anybody, when he told such a tough story as that, and therefore it was not a falsehood. But”—
“A snake! a snake!” suddenly broke in Ronald, who was a little in advance of the others.