But that was not the whole reason. She liked
Jenkins so much, that she wanted to be with him.
I had not her sweet and patient disposition, and I would not go with
her. I watched her out of sight, and then ran up to the house to see if
Mrs. Jenkins had any scraps for me. I nearly always got something, for
she pitied me, and often gave me a kind word or look with the bits of
food that she threw to me.
When Jenkins come home, I often coaxed mother to run about and see some
of the neighbors' dogs with me. But she never would, and I would not
leave her. So, from morning to night we had to sneak about, keeping out
of Jenkins' way as much as we could, and yet trying to keep him in
sight. He always sauntered about with a pipe in his mouth, and his hands
in his pockets, growling first at his wife and children, and then at his
dumb creatures.
I have not told what became of my brothers and sisters. One rainy day,
when we were eight weeks old, Jenkins, followed by two or three of his
ragged, dirty children, came into the stable and looked at us. Then he
began to swear because we were so ugly, and said if we had been
good-looking, he might have sold some of us.
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