Democratic Sentinel, Volume 6, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 July 1882 — PINKIE. [ARTICLE]

PINKIE.

Mr. Dimmit’s D«f and Mia Dan(bter. [From the Brooklyn Eagle.] “I can’t imagine what ails that dog! ” observed Mr. Dimmit, surveying his canine with considerable apprehension. “ Here, Pinkie ! Well, I’m blest! Look here ! I’m dumbed if she hasn’t got a whole patchwork quilt in her mouth ! Look at these pieces ! All good cloth,” and the old gentleman spread them out on the parlor carpet. “ That comes of hoisting up a family,” continued the old gentleman. “ I claim that no fellow can keep a daughter and dog with any safety to the dog ! Look atthese pieces of pantaloons! There’s been another convention of admirers here tonight, and ft quorum of it has gone home with its backs to the fence. Yon Pink ! I wonder some of ’em don’t take a night off and spark that dog with a shotgun ! ” ‘ * What is it all about ? ” asked an innocent Eagle reporter, who had dropped in to get the old gentleman’s views on the Egyptian question. “ I don’t know,” sighed Mr. Dimmit, “ but about twice a week I have to unpack that dog’s month, and every other goung fellow I meet walks considerably panish as he goes past here. You know, they will call. The whole family is popular and—you see that quilt on my bed? That represents intelligent admiration. Every patch there had a hero fastened to it once, but the dog sort of separated ’em. They come in squads, and keep coming. I’ve seen from a dozen to four gross here and on the fence at one time. All smitten clear through, and each clamoring to be heard first. Why, sir, I’ve got the nicest dressing-gown made of summer trousers goods, and the nobbiest overcoat composed of winter cassimeres that you ever saw ! ”

“ I shouldn’t think the same fellows would care to come twice,” suggested the reporter. “I don’t know,” ruminated Mr. Dimmit. “ They are so thick around here that yon can’t tell the new ones from the stagers. Yon should drop in some night and see ’em. They have caucuses, and committees, and delegates, and all that. You know where there are so many they have to organize so as to keep some kind of order, and then Pink constitutes herself a committee of ways and means, and takes up an impartial collection of coat-tails, trousers-legs, collar-bands, and such to defray the expenses of the campaign.” “ Your daughter must be very popular,” observed the reporter. “ She’s the prettiest girl in Brooklyn,” rejoined the old gentleman, with just pride. “And that’s the best dog in nine counties. Pink likes society, and she’s made the best collection of autographs, as she regards them, to be found in the possession of any dog on Long island. Was that the bell ? Here, Pink ! Hi, you!” But he was too late. ** There, ” he continued, as the dog returned after a short excursion; “ that is —I don’t believe I know this one,” and he put on his spectacles and examined the piece of cloth the dog laid at his feet. “ The color iB familiar, but I don’t place him. Perhaps my daughter will know when she come in. Well, sir, it is the dumbdest sight you ever looked at to see her come from the theater and go over these patches to find out who called. Knows every one of ’em ! Can’t stick her on a patch, and she’s very neat in making ’em up. Look at that sofa pillow ! Just take a look at that pianocover ! And see this chair, how easy it is,” and the old gentleman bounced up and down while the reporter looked on admiringly. “But you said that a man couldn’t keep a daughter and a dog with safety to the dog,” hinted the reporter. “I say it,” affirmed Mr. Dimmit, solemnly. “Think of the dye that dog swallows! Here you I down, Pink! Lie down It’s no use!” sighed the old gentleman. ‘ ‘Some fellow has j ust come home with her, but he won’t come in here.” There was a smothered squeal at the outside door, a quick bark, and a longdrawn groan. Then a glorious vision swept into the parlor. “Is this all?” she asked, in a disappointed tone, glancing at the trophies, “Didn’t Claude come?” “He may be around under the furniture, darling, or Pinkie may have swallowed him. Are you sure he hasn’t got mixed in the shuffle?” and Mr. Dimmit turned the pieces over and regarded his daughter with loving anxiety. “There’ll be fourteen or fifteen new ones here to morrow night, papa,” murmured the beautiful girl, rumpling his hair. “Ah!” ejaculated the old man, rubbing his hands. “I may get a summer suit, after all. ” And the reporter left the good old man and his radiant daughter, and went away reflecting on the value a loving and popular daughter could be to a kina and indulgent father, if the volume of mashers should always be equal to tbe demands of the dog.