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Updated: June 11, 2025
"He mus' 'a' come thataway," she said. "I bet nobody 't all ain' train him; he do whut he want to hisse'f. That Gammire don' ast nobody to train him." "Oh, goodness!" Florence said, with sudden despondency. "It's awful!" "Whut is?" "To think of as lovely a dog as this having to face grandpa!" "'Face' him!" Kitty Silver echoed forebodingly. "I reckon you' grampaw do mo'n dess 'face' him."
Ain't none nem ge'lmun goin' try an' give her no mo' animals, I bet! So how anybody goin' guess who sen' her thishere Gammire? Nobody lef' whut ain't awready sen' her one an' had the gift spile." "Yes, there is," said Florence. "Who?" "Noble Dill." "That there li'l young Mista Dills?" Kitty Silver cried. "Listen me! Thishere dog 'spensive dog." "I don't care; I bet Noble Dill gave him to her."
Thishere Gammire, he dog cos' money; he show class same you' Aunt Julia. Ain't neither one of 'em got to waste they time on nobody whut can't show no mo' class than thishere li'l young dish-cumbobbery Mista Dills!" "I don't care," Florence said stubbornly.
And, seeing they laughed at this, too, he gave them enough of it, then came back to Kitty Silver and sat by her feet, a spiral of pink tongue hanging from a wide-open mouth roofed with black. Florence resumed the peeling of her orange. "Who do you think gave Gammire to Aunt Julia?" she asked. "I ain't stedyin' about it." "Yes, but who do you guess?" "I ain't "
Atwater looked down at him fiercely, and through the black chrysanthemum two garnet sparks glinted waggishly. "Didn't you hear me tell you what I'd do if you didn't get out o' here, you darn poodle?" Gammire "sat up," placed his forepaws together over his nose and prayed. "There's your rock," he said. And he added, as clearly as if he used a spoken language, "Let's get on with the game!" Mr.
Gammire also appeared to mistake it, for he came down upon the lawn, rose to his full height, on his "hind legs," and in that humanlike posture "walked" in a wide circle. He did this with an affectation of conscientiousness thoroughly hypocritical; for he really meant to be humorous. "My heavens!" Mr. Atwater cried, lamenting. "Somebody's given her one of those things at last!
"Aunt Julia, it's about Gammire." "Gamin." "What?" "His name is Gamin." "Kitty Silver says his name's Gammire." "Yes," said Julia. "She would. His name is Gamin, though. He's a little Parisian rascal, and his name is Gamin." "Well, Aunt Julia, I'd rather call him Gammire. How much did he cost?" "I don't know; he was brought to me only this morning, and I haven't asked yet."
"He ain't bit nobody yit." "I don't believe he'll bite," said Florence. "I bet he likes me. He looks like he was taking a fancy to me, Kitty Silver. What's his name?" "Gammire." "What?" "Gammire." "What a funny name! Are you sure, Kitty Silver?" "Gammire whut you' Aunt Julia tole me," Mrs. Silver insisted. "You kin go on in the house an' ast her; she'll tell you the same."
It went high twice as high as the house and again Gammire "judged" it; continuously shifting his position, his careful eyes never leaving the little white globe, until just before the last instant of its descent he was motionless beneath it. He caught it again, and Herbert whooped. Gammire brought the ball to him and invited him to proceed with the game.
"My name!" exclaimed Kitty Silver. It was the strange taste of Gammire that so excited them. Florence had peeled her orange and divided it rather fairly into three parts, but the vehemence she exerted in speaking of her grandfather had caused her to drop one of these upon the ground. Gammire promptly ate it, "sat up" and adjusted his paws in prayer for more.
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