"Have you ever shown him before?" says the man.

"No," says the Master, "and I'll never show him again. He's my dog,"
says the Master, "an' he suits me! And I don't care what no judges
think." And when he says them kind words, I licks his hand most
grateful.

The Judge had two of the six dogs on a little platform in the middle
of the ring, and he had chased the four other dogs into the corners,
where they was licking their chops, and letting on they didn't care,
same as Nolan was.

The two dogs on the platform was so beautiful that the Judge hisself
couldn't tell which was the best of 'em, even when he stoops down and
holds their heads together. But at last he gives a sigh, and brushes
the sawdust off his knees and goes to the table in the ring, where
there was a man keeping score, and heaps and heaps of blue and gold
and red and yellow ribbons. And the Judge picks up a bunch of 'em and
walks to the two gentlemen who was holding the beautiful dogs, and he
says to each "What's his number?" and he hands each gentleman a
ribbon. And then he turned sharp, and comes straight at the Master.

"What's his number?" says the Judge. And Master was so scared that he
couldn't make no answer.

But Miss Dorothy claps her hands and cries out like she was laughing,
"Three twenty-six," and the Judge writes it down, and shoves Master
the blue ribbon.

I bit the Master, and I jumps and bit Miss Dorothy, and I waggled so