Her name was Mrs. DeSussa, an't' waay I coom to be acquainted wi' her
was along of our Colonel's Laady's dog Rip.
I've seen a vast o' dogs, but Rip was t' prettiest picter of a cliver
fox-tarrier 'at iver I set eyes on. He could do owt you like but speeak,
an' t' Colonel's Laady set more store by him than if he hed been a
Christian. She hed bairns of her awn, but they was i' England, and Rip
seemed to get all t' coodlin' and pettin' as belonged to a bairn by
good right.
But Rip were a bit on a rover, an' hed a habit o' breakin' out o'
barricks like, and trottin' round t' plaice as if he were t' Cantonment
Magistrate coom round inspectin'. The Colonel leathers him once or
twice, but Rip didn't care an' kept on gooin' his rounds, wi' his taail
a-waggin' as if he were flag-signallin' to t' world at large 'at he
was 'gettin' on nicely, thank yo', and how's yo'sen?' An' then t'
Colonel, as was noa sort of a hand wi' a dog, tees him oop. A real
clipper of a dog, an' it's noa wonder yon laady. Mrs. DeSussa, should
tek a fancy tiv him. Theer's one o' t' Ten Commandments says yo' maun't
cuwet your neebor's ox nor his jackass, but it doesn't say nowt about
his tarrier dogs, an' happen thot's t' reason why Mrs.
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