side of it, "Mr. Wyndham, sir," told us that if Nolan put me on a
chain we could stay. So it came out all right for everybody but me. I
was glad the Master kept his place, but I'd never worn a chain before,
and it disheartened me. But that was the least of it. For the
quality-dogs couldn't forgive my whipping their champion, and they came
to the fence between the kennels and the stables, and laughed through
the bars, barking most cruel words at me. I couldn't understand how they
found it out, but they knew. After the fight Jimmy Jocks was most
condescending to me, and he said the grooms had boasted to the
kennel-men that I was a son of Regent Royal, and that when the
kennel-men asked who was my mother they had had to tell them that too.
Perhaps that was the way of it, but, however, the scandal got out, and
every one of the quality-dogs knew that I was a street-dog and the son
of a black-and-tan.

"These misalliances will occur," said Jimmy Jocks, in his old-fashioned
way; "but no well-bred dog," says he, looking most scornful at the St.
Bernards, who were howling behind the palings, "would refer to your
misfortune before you, certainly not cast it in your face. I myself
remember your father's father, when he made his debut at the Crystal
Palace. He took four blue ribbons and three specials."

But no sooner than Jimmy would leave me the St. Bernards would take to
howling again, insulting mother and insulting me. And when I tore at my
chain, they, seeing they were safe, would howl the more. It was never
the same after that; the laughs and the jeers cut into my heart, and the
chain bore heavy on my spirit. I was so sad that sometimes I wished I
was back in the gutter again, where no one was better than me, and some
nights I wished I was dead. If it hadn't been for the Master being so
kind, and that it would have looked like I was blaming mother, I would
have twisted my leash and hanged myself.

About a month after my fight, the word was passed through the kennels
that the New York Show was coming, and such goings on as followed I
never did see. If each of them had been matched to fight for a thousand
pounds and the gate, they couldn't have trained more conscientious. But
perhaps that's just my envy. The kennel-men rubbed 'em and scrubbed 'em,
and trims their hair and curls and combs it, and some dogs they fatted
and some they starved. No one talked of nothing but the Show, and the
chances "our kennels" had against the o