"If I'd whip Fritz, he'd dance, but I likes him too well to whip him."

Beth liked all dogs, with or without pedigree, and said warmly:

"I wouldn't whip him either, but it's too bad he won't dance. I'd
really like to see him."

Again the boy said coaxingly, "Fritz, do dance," but the dog was not to
be coaxed.

The boy frowned. "Yo'll think he can't dance, but 'deed he can.
Maybe, if I dance, he'll dance too."

At the word, the ragged pickaninny began whistling, and then he capered
around and around performing some wonderful steps. Whereupon Fritz
began to bark and caught at his master's heels.

"Stop, Fritz, stop," but the dog would not heed, and so the dancing
came to a sudden stand-still.

The pickaninny cocked his head on one side and whispered to Beth:

"He's out of sorts with me. I'm disgraced in his sight. He can dance
so much bettah 'n me."

"Can he really?"

"Oh, a hundred times bettah."

"He must be a wonderful dog"--Beth was about to add, "Although he