"I never think of him in that way," answered the old man, mildly. "He
has been my companion--I may say my only companion--these many years,
and I love him as property is not loved. No, sir, _Trusty_ is not
property--he is my companion and my friend."

"I didn't come here to listen to any of your crazy nonsense, but as an
officer of the law, to see if you have registered your dog, and paid
your tax as it commands, and, if you hadn't, to see that the penalty was
put upon you as you deserve, you old begging loafer, you."

"I've broken no law that I know of," replied the beggar, "I love my dog,
that is all. I hope it breaks no law for a man to love his dog in this
city, does it, friend?"

"If you don't know what the law is, you'd better find out," answered the
fellow, roughly. "What right have you to own a dog, anyway? It strikes
me that it is about enough for you to sponge your own living out of the
community, without sponging another for a miserable whelp of a dog like
that."

"Trusty eats very little," replied the old man, respectfully, "and he
amuses people a great deal, especially the children; and, besides, he is
a great comfort to me, and God knows that I have nothing else to
comfort me in all the world--wealth, home, friends, and one dearer than
all,--all lost, and thou'rt all I have left, Trusty, to comfort me," and
he looked affectionately at his companion, whose head was resting
lovingly on his knee.

"Oh, I've heard the whining of your class before to-night," replied the