These dogs each wore a kind of
little coat of some gaudy color, trimmed with tarnished spangles, and
one of them had a cap upon his head, tied under his chin, which had
fallen down upon his nose, and completely obscured one eye. Add to this,
that the gaudy coats were all wet through with rain, and that the
wearers were all splashed and dirty, and some idea may be formed of the
unusual appearance of the new visitors to the inn. Jerry, the manager of
these dancing dogs, disencumbering himself of a barrel-organ, and
retaining in his hand a small whip, came up to the fire and entered into
conversation. The landlord then busied himself in laying the cloth for
supper, which, being at length ready to serve, little Nell ventured to
say grace, and supper began.
At this juncture the poor dogs were standing upon their hind legs quite
surprisingly. The child, having pity on them, was about to cast some
morsels of food to them before she tasted it herself, hungry though she
was, when their master interposed.
"No, my dear, no, not an atom from anybody's hand but mine, please. That
dog," said Jerry, pointing out the old leader of the troop, and speaking
in a terrible voice, "lost a half-penny to-day. He goes without
his supper."
The unfortunate creature dropped upon his forelegs directly, wagged his
tail, and looked imploringly at his master.
"You must be more careful, sir," said Jerry, walking coolly to the chair
where he had placed the organ, and setting the stop.
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