At Detroit the manager of
the hotel said that dogs were against the rules. Being very tired Henry
let Fussie go to the stables for the night, and sent Walter to look
after him. The next morning he sent for the manager.
"Yours is a very old-fashioned hotel, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir, very old and ancient."
"Got a good chef? I didn't think much of the supper last night; but
still--the beds are comfortable enough--I am afraid you don't like
animals?"
"Yes, sir, in their proper place."
"It's a pity," said Henry meditatively, "because you happen to be
overrun by rats!"
"Sir, you must have made a mistake. Such a thing couldn't--"
"Well, I couldn't pass another night here without my dog," Henry
interrupted. "But there are, I suppose, other hotels?"
"If it will be any comfort to you to have your dog with you, sir, do by
all means, but I assure you that he'll catch no rat here."
"I'll be on the safe side," said Henry calmly.
And so it was settled. That very night Fussie supped off, not rats, but
terrapin and other delicacies in Henry's private sitting-room.
It was the 1888 tour, the great blizzard year, that Fussie was left
behind by mistake at Southampton. He jumped out at the station just
before Southampton, where they stop to collect tickets.
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