The Hound Puppy at Walk i8i 



of cider, and when he came to the door again that puppy 

 came running up with a leg of mutton. ' Look here,' says 

 the butcher, * is that dog trained to empty my wagon for 

 you r 



The farmer, too, has grievances. He has spent an hour 

 cleaning his overcoat, spongeing the mud-stains off, and 

 hanging it over the chair to dry while he gets ready for 

 church ; but when he comes to put it on it is nowhere to 

 be found. He hears a noise in the yard, and there is the 

 puppy dragging it through the mud, shaking and snarling at 

 it as if he were breaking a fox. At such times the farmer 

 is apt to think puppies destroy more straw hats than a 

 whole litter is worth, not to mention boots, shoes, slippers, 

 rubbers, and lap-robes. If anything from an almanac to a 

 bedspread is missing in the house, if anything from a curry- 

 comb to a horse-collar is missing from the barn, that puppy 

 did it. It is impossible to keep the children clothed, for 

 they will play with the puppies, whose teeth are as sharp 

 as razors. "The puppies are an awful nuisance," the 

 farmer ends; "but Mr. Master of Hounds is such a nice 

 man ! He sends me a brace of partridges or something 

 every year for Christmas. We came near winning the cup 

 he offered last year, too, for the best-walked puppy. The 

 huntsman — and he is a nice man, too — said if we had not 

 kept the puppy quite so well we should have had the cup. 

 Puppy was a little mite too fat, he said." 



But although the puppy makes the farmer swear, and sets 

 everybody about the place by the ears, although the neigh- 

 bours and the butcher threaten to kill him, he thrives 

 under it all. He and the small boy who grow up together at 



