unbuttons me from the apron, brushes a lot of short hair
down my neck, and holds a hand mirror so I can get a rear elevation view
of my noble dome. "Hah!" says he. "You must see. I show you dogs what is
dogs. Come."

And after I've retrieved my collar and tie I follows him out back where
in a lean-to shed he has a chicken wire pen with a half dozen or so of
as cute, roly-poly little puppies as you'd want to see. They're sort of
rusty brown and black, with comical long heads and awkward big paws, and
stubby tails. And the way they was tumbling over each other, tryin' to
chew with their tiny teeth, and scrimmagin' around like so many boys
playin' football in a back lot--well, I couldn't help snickerin' just
watchin' 'em for a minute.

"All spoke for but dees wan," says Joe, fishing out one of the lot.
"Meester Parks he pick heem first wan, but now he hafta go by Chicago
and no can take. Fine chance for you. With beeg place like you got you
need good watch dog. Hey? What you say?"

"What's the breed, Joe?" I asks.

Joe gawps at me disgusted. I expect such ignorance was painful. "Wot
kind?" says he. "Wot you t'ink? Airedale."

"Oh, yes! Of course, Airedales," says I, like it was something I'd
forgotten.

And then I scratches my head. Hadn't I heard Vee sayin' how she liked
some particular kind of a dog? And wasn't it this kind? Why, sure, it
was. Well, why not? Joe says they're all ready to be delivered, just
weaned and everything.

"I'll go you," says I. "How much?"

Say, I had to gasp when Joe names his bargain price. You see, I'd never
been shoppin' for dogs before, and I hadn't kept track of the puppy
market quotations. Course, I knew that some of these fancy, full-grown
specimens of classy breeds brought big money at times. But little pups
like this, that you could hold in your hand, or tuck into your overcoat
pocket--why, my idea was the people who had 'em sort of distributed 'em
around where they would have good homes; or else in the case of a party
like Joe you might slip him a five or a ten.

No, I ain't tellin' what I paid. Not to anybody. But after sayin' what I
had I couldn't back out without feelin' like a piker. And when Joe says
confidential how he's knockin' off ten at that I writes out the check
more or less cheerful.

"Ought to be good blood in him, at that figure," I suggests.

"Heem!" says Joe. "He got pedigree long lak your arm. Hees mothair ees
from Lady Glen Ellen III., hees father ees