We were thinking of all the true dog stories we had ever
heard, and wondering which was the one least likely to be generally
disbelieved.
MacShaughnassy, in particular, was growing every moment more restless and
moody. Brown concluded a long discourse--to which nobody had listened--by
remarking with some pride, "What more can you want? The plot has never
been used before, and the characters are entirely original!"
Then MacShaughnassy gave way. "Talking of plots," he said, hitching his
chair a little nearer the table, "that puts me in mind. Did I ever tell
you about that dog we had when we lived in Norwood?"
"It's not that one about the bull-dog, is it?" queried Jephson anxiously.
"Well, it was a bull-dog," admitted MacShaughnassy, "but I don't think
I've ever told it you before."
We knew, by experience, that to argue the matter would only prolong the
torture, so we let him go on.
"A great many burglaries had lately taken place in our neighbourhood," he
began, "and the pater came to the conclusion that it was time he laid
down a dog. He thought a bull-dog would be the best for his purpose, and
he purchased the most savage and murderous-looking specimen that he could
find.
"My mother was alarmed when she saw the dog. 'Surely you're not going to
let that brute loose about the house!' she exclaimed.
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