the little dog. “It’s easy to tell you're from the country, even if I hadn’t seen you ride up on the hay wagon! Still, I like the look of you, and I can’t say that of every one.”
“Suppose I take your place for a while?” said Poor Cecco, who was anxious to be friendly. “I’ll sit here and watch the pennies, and give you a chance to walk about a bit and see the town.”
The little dog stared at him.
“That’s an idea worth thinking about,” he said. “But how can I tell you’ll look after the business properly? I can’t have my old man robbed by any one who may come along.”
“Leave that to me,” said Poor Cecco. “As for Bulka here, he’ll sit by and help me. Only take your head out of the collar and let me get mine in.”
So the little dog pulled his head out of the collar, very carefully, so as not to waken the old man, and Poor Cecco slipped his head through instead. The collar was far too big, but he managed to prop it up somehow, and there he sat on the pavement, with the tin cup at his feet.
“That’s a neighbourly act,” said the little dog. “I will do as much for you, some day. Now look pleasant, and above all, don’t forget to wag your tail for a penny! It pleases the people and draws custom.”
And he strolled off down the road, very pleased with himself, stretching his legs and sniffing at all the corners like any fine gentlemanly dog of leisure.
