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Ranson's Folly by Richard Harding Davis
page 113 of 268 (42%)
says he. "They're all here. You can go ahead," and he shuts the gate.

The Judge, he doesn't hesitate a moment. He just waves his hand
toward the corner of the ring. "Take him away," he says to the
Master. "Over there and keep him away," and he turns and looks most
solemn at the six beautiful bull-terriers. I don't know how I crawled
to that corner. I wanted to scratch under the sawdust and dig myself
a grave. The kennel-men they slapped the rail with their hands and
laughed at the Master like they would fall over. They pointed at me
in the corner, and their sides just shaked. But little Miss Dorothy
she presses her lips tight against the rail, and I see tears rolling
from her eyes. The Master, he hangs his head like he had been
whipped. I felt most sorry for him, than all. He was so red, and he
was letting on not to see the kennel-men, and blinking his eyes. If
the Judge had ordered me right out, it wouldn't have disgraced us so,
but it was keeping me there while he was judging the high-bred dogs
that hurt so hard. With all those people staring too. And his doing
it so quick, without no doubt nor questions. You can't fool the
judges. They see insides you.

But he couldn't make up his mind about them high-bred dogs. He scowls
at 'em, and he glares at 'em, first with his head on the one side and
then on the other. And he feels of 'em, and orders 'em to run about.
And Nolan leans against the rails, with his head hung down, and pats
me. And Miss Dorothy comes over beside him, but don't say nothing,
only wipes her eye with her finger. A man on the other side of the
rail he says to the Master, "The Judge don't like your dog?"

"No," says the Master.

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