him Toby would start back, or step up quickly, he was so anxious
to please him.

After Jenkins put him in the cart, and took in the cans, he set out
on his rounds. My mother, whose name was Jess, always went with
him. I used to ask her why she followed such a brute of a man, and
she would hang her head, and say that sometimes she got a bone
from the different houses they stopped at. But that was not the
whole reason. She liked Jenkins so much, that she wanted to be
with him.

I had not her sweet and patient disposition, and I would not go
with her. I watched her out of sight, and then ran up to the house to
see if Mrs. Jenkins had any scraps for me. I nearly always got
something, for she pitied me, and often gave me a kind word or
look with the bits of food that she threw to me.

When Jenkins come home, I often coaxed mother to run about and
see some of the neighbors' dogs with me. But she never would, and
I would not leave her. So, from morning to night we had to sneak
about, keeping out of Jenkins' way as much as we could, and yet
trying to keep him in sight. He always sauntered about with a pipe
in his mouth, and his hands in his pockets, growling first at his
wife and children, and then at his dumb creatures.

I have not told what became of my brothers and sisters. One rainy
day, when we were eight weeks old, Jenkins, followed by two or
three of his ragged, dirty children, came into the stable and looked
at us. Then he began to swear because we were so ugly, and said if
we had been good-looking, he might have sold some of us. Mother