feet, as if she had been treading on starch.
“Who are these two?” asked the Snow Man of the yard-dog. “You have
been here longer than I have; do you know them?”
“Of course I know them,” replied the yard-dog; “she has stroked my back
many times, and he has given me a bone of meat. I never bite those two.”
“But what are they?” asked the Snow Man.
“They are lovers,” he replied; “they will go and live in the same kennel
by-and-by, and gnaw at the same bone. Away, away!”
“Are they the same kind of beings as you and I?” asked the Snow Man.
“Well, they belong to the same master,” retorted the yard-dog. “Certainly
people who were only born yesterday know very little. I can see that in you.
I have age and experience. I know every one here in the house, and I know
there was once a time when I did not lie out here in the cold, fastened to a
chain. Away, away!”
“The cold is delightful,” said the Snow Man; “but do tell me tell me; only
you must not clank your chain so; for it jars all through me when you do
that.”
“Away, away!” barked the yard-dog; “I’ll tell you; they said I was a
pretty little fellow once; then I used to lie in a velvet-covered chair, up at
the master’s house, and sit in the mistress’s lap. They used to kiss my nose,
and wipe my paws with an embroidered handkerchief, and I was called
’Ami, dear Ami, sweet Ami.’ But after a while I grew too big for them, and
they sent me away to the housekeeper’s room; so I came to live on the
lower story. You can look into the room from where you stand, and see
where I was master once; for I was indeed master to the housekeeper. It was
certainly a smaller room than those up stairs; but I was more comfortable;
for I was not being continually taken hold of and pulled about by the
children as I had been. I received quite as good food, or even better. I had
my own cushion, and there was a stove-it is the finest thing in the world at
