Well, now, do you call that good manners? My master shut the gate in my face, as much as to say, "Stay where you are, Bob." Then he goes in to dine and play chess with the parson, and leaves me here to watch and wait.
Three hours, I do believe, I have been here on the watch,—three long, long hours. And there he sits yonder with the folks in the summer-house. The roast meat seems to be deliciously done, if I may judge from the odor. Just one little bone for me, if you please, good master mine.
What do I see? He gives a bone to that scamp Fido; but for me, his trusty one, who, year in and year out, have guarded yard and stable so faithfully,—for me he has nothing, not even a mouthful! And here I sit hungering and thirsting till my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

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