The two dogs on the platform was so beautiful that the Judge hisself couldn't tell which was the best of 'em, even when he stoops down and holds their heads together. But at last he gives a sigh, and brushes the sawdust off his knees and goes to the table in the ring, where there was a man keeping score, and heaps and heaps of blue and gold and red and yellow ribbons. And the Judge picks up a bunch of 'em and walks to the two gentlemen who was holding the beautiful dogs, and he says to each “What's his number?” and he hands each gentleman a ribbon. And then he turned sharp, and comes straight at the Master. “What's his number?” says the Judge. And Master was so scared that he couldn't make no answer. But Miss Dorothy claps her hands and cries out like she was laughing, “Three twenty-six,” and the Judge writes it down, and shoves Master the blue ribbon. I bit the Master, and I jumps and bit Miss Dorothy, and I waggled so hard that the Master couldn't hold me. When I get to the gate Miss Dorothy snatches me up and kisses me between the ears, right before millions of people, and they both hold me so tight that I didn't know which of them was carrying of me. But one thing I knew, for I listened hard, as it was the Judge hisself as said it. “Did you see that puppy I gave 'first' to?” says the Judge to the gentleman at the gate. “I did. He was a bit out of his class,” says the gate-gentleman. “He certainly was!” says the Judge, and they both laughed. But I didn't care. They couldn't hurt me then, not with Nolan holding the blue ribbon and Miss Dorothy hugging my ears, and the kennel-men sneaking away, each looking like he'd been caught with his nose under the lid of the slop-can. We sat down together, and we all three just talked as fast as we could. They was so pleased that I couldn't help feeling proud myself, and I barked and jumped and leaped about so gay, that all the bull-terriers in our street stretched on their chains, and howled at me. “Just look at him!” says one of those I had beat. “What's he giving hisself airs about?” “Because he's got one blue ribbon!” says another of 'em. “Why, when I was a puppy I used to eat 'em, and if that Judge could ever learn to know a toy from a mastiff, I'd have had this one.” But Jimmy Jocks he leaned over from his bench, and says, “Well done, Kid. Didn't I tell you so!” What he 'ad told me was that I might get a “commended,” but I didn't remind him. “Didn't I tell you,” says Jimmy Jocks, “that I saw your grandfather make his debut at the Crystal--” “Yes, sir, you did, sir,” says I, for I have no love for the men of my family. A gentleman with a showing leash around his neck comes up just then and looks at me very critical. “Nice dog you've got, Miss Wyndham,” says he; “would you care to sell him?” “He's not my dog,” says Miss Dorothy, holding me tight. “I wish he were.” “He's not for sale, sir,” says the Master, and I was that glad.