She scolded me, and then
she cried, till I didn't know where to look. Plague on it, how was I
going to know he'd kill the old cat? I only wanted to drive it out of
the yard. Come on, let's look at the dog."
They all came and bent over me, as I lay on the floor in my corner. I
wasn't much used to boys, and I didn't know how they would treat me. But
I soon found by the way they handled me and talked to me, that they knew
a good deal about dogs, and were accustomed to treat them kindly. It
seemed very strange to have them pat me, and call me "good dog." No one
had ever said that to me before to-day.
"He's not much of a beauty, is he?" said one of the boys, whom they
called Tom.
"Not by a long shot," said Jack Morris, with a laugh. "Not any nearer
the beauty mark than yourself, Tom."
Tom flew at him, and they had a scuffle. The other boys paid no
attention to them, but went on looking at me. One of them, a little boy
with eyes like Miss Laura's, said, "What did Cousin Harry say the dog's
name was?"
"Joe," answered another boy. "The little chap that carried him home told
him."
"We might call him 'Ugly Joe' then," said a lad with a round, fat face,
and laughing eyes.
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