The dog could not go for both of them. He
did his best, and went for one. That his selection should have fallen
upon the policeman instead of upon the burglar was unfortunate. But
still it was a thing that might have happened to any dog.
"My father, however, had become prejudiced against the poor creature, and
that same week he inserted an advertisement in _The Field_, in which the
animal was recommended as an investment likely to prove useful to any
enterprising member of the criminal classes."
MacShaughnassy having had his innings, Jephson took a turn, and told us a
pathetic story about an unfortunate mongrel that was run over in the
Strand one day and its leg broken. A medical student, who was passing at
the time, picked it up and carried it to the Charing Cross Hospital,
where its leg was set, and where it was kept and tended until it was
quite itself again, when it was sent home.
The poor thing had quite understood what was being done for it, and had
been the most grateful patient they had ever had in the hospital. The
whole staff were quite sorry when it left.
One morning, a week or two later, the house-surgeon, looking out of the
window, saw the dog coming down the street. When it came near he noticed
that it had a penny in its mouth. A cat's-meat barrow was standing by
the kerb, and for a moment, as he passed it, the dog hesitated.
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