"Didn't you hear me say I'd never tell you? I do' know. He just picked Sammy's father up on the street, an' follered him home, for all the world the same's he'd been a Christian." "What kind of dog is he?" "Cur-dog." "What kind's that?" "Well, a full-blooded cur-dog is somethin' rare in these parts. You wouldn't find him at an ordinary dog-show, like your mother goes to. Now, Sammy's dog is full-blooded--leastways, he will be, when he's fed up." "My mother's dog is a _pedigree-dog_. Is Sammy's that kind?" "I ain't ast him, but I shouldn't wonder." "My mother's got a paper tells all about where Fifi came from. It's in a frame." "Fifi is?" "No, the paper is. The paper says Fifi is out of a deller, sired by Star. I heard her read it off to a lady that came to see her one day. Say, Martha, what's a _deller?_" "I do' know." "Fifi has awful long ears. What kind of ears has Sammy's dog got?" "I didn't notice partic'lar, I must say. But he's got two of 'em, an' they can stand up, an' lay down, real natural-like, accordin' to taste--the dog's taste, which wouldn't be noways remarkable, if it was his tongue, but is what _I_ call extraordinary, seein' it's his _ears_. An' his tail's the same, exceptin' it has even more education still. It can wag, besides standin' up an' layin' down. Ain't that pretty smart for a pup, that prob'ly didn't have no raisin' to speak of, 'less you count raisin' on the toe of somebody's boot?" "D'you mean anybody kicked him?" "Well, he ain't said so, in so many words, but I draw my own conclusions. He's an honorable, gentlemanlike dog. He keeps his own counsel. If it so happened that he'd needed to be punished at any time, he'd bear it like a little man, an' hold his tongue. You don't catch a reel thorerbred whinin'." "I wish I could see Sammy's dog." "Well, p'raps you can. But I'll tell you confidential, I wouldn't like Flicker to 'sociate with none but the best class o' boys. I'm goin' to see he has a fine line of friends from this time on, an' if Sammy ain't what he'd oughter be, why, he just can't mix with Flicker, that's all there is _to_ it!" "Who gave him that name?" "'His sponsers in baptism--' Ho! Hear me! Recitin' the Catechism! I'm such a good 'Piscopalian I just can't help it! A little lady-friend of mine gave him that name, 'cause he flickers round so--so like a little yeller flame. Did I mention his color was yeller? That alone would show he's a true-breed cur-dog." "Say, I forgot--my mother she--she sent me down to tell you she wants to see you right away up in her sittin'-room. I guess you better go quick." Mrs. Slawson ceased plying her polishing-cloth upon the hardwood floor, sat back upon her heels, and calmly gathered her utensils together. "Say, my mother she said tell you she wanted to see you right off, for something particular. Ain't you goin' to hurry?" "Shoor I am. Certaintly." "You don't look as if you was hurrying."