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- lishers, like the chap in Dickens, are
crying for more. Well, I've got more, heaps more; good stuff, too. And I'm ready to go back to work, too. Lord, man, but there's nothing finer in life than having work to do and wanting to do it! Eh? Isn't that so? How's Bistre?"
"Fat and lazy. I wrote you that he went into mourning for a week or so after you left, didn't I? Why, he wouldn't eat more than twice enough for him! I never saw him so grumpy! And he used to go sniffing around the room, and then walk to the door and out into the road, and look up and down, for all the world as though he were searching for you!"
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"I dare say he was, dear old dog!
Bring him with you when you come
West, will you? He'll have the time
of his innocent young life out there.
