"I wish he was mine," said the smaller child, as he took the
soft,
fluffy little ball in his arms; "what'll you take for him?"
The negro boy had never seen the dog before, but he immediately
accepted the ownership thrust upon him and answered without
hesitation, "I'll take a dollar for her."
"I ain't got but a nickel. Billy, ain't you got 'nough money to
put with my nickel to make a dollar?"
"Naw; I ain't got a red cent."
"I'll tell you what we'll do," suggested Jimmy; "we'll trade you
a baseball mask for him. My mama's going to give me a new mask
'cause I all time stay at home; so we'll trade you our old one.
Go get it, Billy."
Thus commanded Billy ran and picked up the bustle where it lay
neglected on the grass and handed it to the quasi-owner of the
puppy.
The deal was promptly closed and a little black negro went
grinning down the street with Miss Minerva's old bustle tied
across his face, leaving behind him a curly-haired dog.
"Ain't he sweet?" said Jimmy, hugging the fluffy white ball close
to his breast, "we got to name him, Billy.
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