'I'll mek it three fifty,' says Mrs. DeSussa; 'only let me hev t'dog!'

So we let her persuade us, an' she teks Rip's measure theer an' then,
an' sent to Hamilton's to order a silver collar again t' time when he
was to be her awn, which was to be t' day she set off for Munsooree
Pahar.

'Sitha, Mulvaney,' says I, when we was outside, 'you're niver goin'
to let her hev Rip!'

'An' would ye disappoint a poor old woman?' says he; 'she shall have
_a_ Rip.'

'An' wheer's he to come through?' says I.

'Learoyd, my man,' he sings out, 'you're a pretty man av your inches
an' a good comrade, but your head is made av duff. Isn't our friend
Orth'ris a Taxidermist, an' a rale artist wid his nimble white fingers?
An' what's a Taxidermist but a man who can thrate shkins? Do ye mind
the white dog that belongs to the Canteen Sargint, bad cess to him--he
that's lost half his time an' snarlin' the rest? He shall be lost for
_good_ now; an' do ye mind that he's the very spit in shape an' size
av the Colonel's, barrin' that his tail is an inch too long, an' he
has none av the colour that divarsifies the rale Rip, an' his timper
is that av his masther an' worse. But fwhat is an inch on a dog's tail?
An' fwhat to a professional like Orth'ris is a few ringstraked shpots
av black, brown, an' white? Nothin' at all, at all.'

Then we meets Orth'ris, an' that little man, bein' sharp as a needle,