Why, of course? I hardly stir except in a carriage. Show me the
underside of your paws. Horrors! One would say 'twas the stone they
sharpen knives on! Look at mine. Satin on top, velvet underneath.

TOBY-DOG

I'd like to see you in the country, on the cobble-stones.

THE LITTLE DOG

I've been there, Sir. I was in the country last summer and there weren't
any cobble-stones.

TOBY-DOG

Then it wasn't the country. You don't know what country means.

THE LITTLE DOG, (_vexed_)

Indeed I do, Sir! It's fine sand, and velvety lawns that are swept every
morning; it's a reclining chair on the grass, great, fresh cushions of
cretonne, foamy milk, naps in the shade, and charming little red apples
to play with.

TOBY-DOG, (_shaking his head_)

No. It's the road covered with white powder that makes the eyelids smart
and the paws burn, the tough, shriveled, sweet-smelling grass, where I
scratch my nose and my gums; it's the fearful night--for I'm the only
one to guard them, He and She. I lie in my basket, but the beating of my