lady's pet, crying pitifully in the street, unable to find its
mistress's door, the children's playmate, waiting in front of the school
house for school to close, the poor man's help and comfort, his
household's joy, guardian and friend, caught in the street on his return
from his humble master, to whom he carried his homely dinner. What was
one dog more or less to him, hardened by the murderous habit of his
office and eager to earn his wretched fee,--what was one dog more or
less to _him_?

"Come, come," he cried, as he uncoiled the rope he held in his hand,
"out with the money or I take the dog."

"How much is it? how much is it?" cried the old man, fumbling in his
pockets and bringing forth a few small pieces of silver and some
pennies. "Here take it, take it, it's all I have--there's a ten-cent
piece, isn't it? and there's two fives, and here, yes, God be praised,
here's a quarter of a dollar; Trusty earned that yesterday. Let's see,
twenty-five, that's the quarter, and ten is thirty-five, and two fives,
that makes forty-five, and eight pennies, that makes fifty-three cents;
won't that do? It's every cent I have, as God is my witness--it will do,
won't it?" And the old man seized one of the hands of the fellow, and
strove to put his little hoarding into it.

But the hard-hearted wretch drew his hand back with a jerk, and, seizing
the dog by the neck, slipped the rope over his head and saying, "The law
allows me four times that for killing him," opened the door and pulled
the poor dog out after him into the street.

"God of heaven!" screamed the poor old man, as he rushed, bareheaded as
he was, out of the door, and hurried in pursuit of the man, who was