to the dog, and he's the downiest one of the lot."
"And the least given to peaching," added Charley Bates.
"He wouldn't so much as bark in a witness-box for fear of committing himself; no, not if you tied him up in one, and left him there without wittles for a fortnight," said the Dodger.
"That he wouldn't; not a bit of it," observed Charley.
"He's a rum dog. Don't he look fierce at any strange cove that laughs or sings when he's in company!" pursued the Dodger. "Won't he growl at all, when he hears a fiddle playing, and don't he hate other dogs as ain't of his breed!—Oh, no!"
"He's an out-and-out Christian," said Charley.
This was merely intended as a tribute to the animal's abilities, but it was an appropriate remark in another sense, if Master Bates had only known it; for there are a great many ladies and gentlemen claiming to be out-and-out
