e was too
well-bred; so he made a bow, and put his paw on his heart; and said:
"I meant no wrong; but I took you for Frisk, the pie-man's dog."

"Well, so I am--or so I was, I mean; till last week; but, you see, the
trade was too low for a dog of my style--with such ears and such a
long tail. I was not made to bark out of the back of a pie-cart at
all the rag-tags in town; so I have cut the pie-man, and mean to try
high life in some big house. My own aunt lives with a judge; and it
will be odd if some rich man does not like my looks, and take me home
with him. But I must be off; it would not do to be seen with you, if I
hope to rise in the world. A good time to you, my boy. He! he! you
are such a beau, you can't fail to cut a dash. G-o-o-d day!"

"Stop a bit!" cried Mop, as Frisk ran off. "You don't think much of me
_now_ I see, but time may show me to be the best dog yet. What if we
were each to try to find a new place, and meet here in a month from
now, to tell what has past in the mean time? Don't you think that
would be a nice plan?"

"Oh! I'll do so if you wish!" said Frisk; "but don't ask me to bow
when we meet, I beg; it won't _do_, you know."

"Shake a paw then," said Mop.

Frisk, very loth, put the tip of one claw on Mop's paw. Then the two
dogs stood back to back, and, with a one! two!! three!!! off they went
as if a mad bull was at their heels.

PART II.

THE DOGS MEET ONCE MORE.

On the last day of the month, Mop and Frisk, true to their word, came
to the place where they last said good-by. But how each one did look
to see if his mate were the same dog he last saw!

Mop's coat was rough no more--it shone like silk; his ears were cut;
he wore a fine brass neck ring, with a new name on it; and his whole
air was that of a dog in luck.

Poor Frisk was so thin that you could count all his ribs. His tail stood
up in the air no more. He hung his head and crept close by the wall, as
if he did fear some one would beat him if he dared to run or jump.

Good Mop did not look on him with scorn when he saw him in this sad
way; but ran up to him on three legs, with one paw held out for "How
d'ye do," and his great fly-brush of a tail a-wag for joy.

"Why, Frisk, old dog!" he cried, "how glad I am to see you! How have
you been this long time?"

"O Mop!" said Frisk in a sad tone, "will you speak to me now I am so
poor? It is I who am not fit to be seen this time."

"Frisk, my good dog," said Mop in