"Come here, you poor dog, and try this," said the mistress, at the same time spreading a bun generously with delicious new butter.
The Airedale went around with great alacrity, understanding the sympathetic tone if not the words.
"There, there, you poor hungry dog, eat that," said the kind lady.
She placed the delicious bun before his majesty.
As a special mark of condescension Pierre licked the butter from the bun but would not touch the bun itself.
"Well, well, he is some epicurean; won't touch my good buns."
"Perhaps he would like a plate of humming-birds' tongues, or a little ambrosia," the man suggested, ironically.
Pierre looked at him reproachfully,
