“Found your dog?  Where is he?”

“Fritz, bring Pixy here,” called his aunt, and Fritz came with his dog, followed by Franz and Paul.

“I have been more than half an hour coming here with this dog in answer to your advertisement, and should be paid for my trouble,” said the young man, gruffly.

“It is not our fault that you came.  It is not our dog.  See, he is not at all like ours and he does not answer to the name of Pixy.”

“See if he don’t,” and he jerked the dog’s head up by the cord as he called “Pixy!”

“No matter if his name is Pixy, he is not our dog.  Our dog is here, as you see.”

The man grew angry and raised his voice, and the dogs, who had been eyeing each other with no friendly looks, snarled and sprang upon each other, and the small entry was the scene of such a fierce battle, and resounded with such shrill yelps and much thumping and bumping about that the very coats and hats on the pegs trembled.  Pixy was full of fight, but the strange dog was much the larger, and scored a victory, while Pixy ran howling under the sofa in the dining-room.

Mrs. Steiner was so weak from fright that she had to hold to the open door for support; and tears were running down Fritz’s cheeks.  They all hoped that the man would leave, but no, he wanted money.  He changed his reason for demanding it, claiming that he should have payment for the injury to his dog.

“Asking for money when your wild beast dragged our poor Pixy over the floor as if he were a bundle of old rags?” cried Mrs. Steiner in astonishment.

“Your dog commenced it!  He snarled at my dog.”

“He did it from fright, I think, and your dog bit him and tore out some of his silky, black hair, and Pixy is now lying under the sofa, his teeth chattering from fear.”

“What do I care where he is!  If my Turk mastered him, that is not saying that my dog is not hurt.”

“So your dog is not named Pixy but Turk,” commented Mrs. Steiner.

The man took no notice of this; his object was money and he resolved to get it.

“I should have a dollar at least for my trouble,” he said.

“I wish a policeman would happen along.  There are not enough of them in Frankfort,” remarked Mrs. Steiner.  “Look out of the windows, boys, and if you see one beckon to him to come.  I would give a dollar this minute to see one.”

“Why should you give a dollar to a policeman?  Give the dollar to me, and I will go and take my dog.”

“Not a penny, Aunt Fanny!” called Paul.  “He would better leave now, and quickly, or he will see what he will get.”

It would have been hard for Paul to have told what the man would get, but his determined manner had its effect and the man ran down the steps, instantly followed by Turk.

Mrs. Steiner sank upon the sofa, pale and nervous; Fritz sat by her shedding tears of regret that he had brought his dog to Frankfort; and Pixy crept out from his covert and tried to comfort them.