'at Rip ud be a vast better off in t' Hills than down i' Bengal, and
'twas a pity he shouldn't go wheer he was so well beliked. And soa he
went on, backin' an' fillin' an' workin' up t' awd lass wal she felt
as if her life warn't worth nowt if she didn't hev t' dog.

Then all of a suddint he says:--'But ye _shall_ have him, marm, for
I've a feelin' heart, not like this could-blooded Yorkshireman; but
'twill cost ye not a penny less than three hundher rupees.'

'Don't yo' believe him, mum,' says I; 't' Colonel's Laady wouldn't
tek five hundred for him.'

'Who said she would?' says Mulvaney; 'it's not buyin' him I mane, but
for the sake o' this kind, good laady, I'll do what I never dreamt to
do in my life. I'll stale him!'

'Don't say steal,' says Mrs. DeSussa; 'he shall have the happiest home.
Dogs often get lost, you know, and then they stray, an' he likes me
and I like him as I niver liked a dog yet, an' I _must_ hev him. If
I got him at t' last minute I could carry him off to Munsooree Pahar
and nobody would niver knaw.'

Now an' again Mulvaney looked acrost at me, an' though I could mak
nowt o' what he was after, I concluded to take his leead.

'Well, mum,' I says, 'I never thowt to coom down to dog-steealin', but
if my comrade sees how it could be done to oblige a laady like yo'sen,
I'm nut t' man to hod back, tho' it's a bad business I'm thinkin', an'
three hundred rupees is a poor set-off again t' chance of them Damning
Islands as Mulvaney talks on.'