The dog had one ear that refused to stay up. It flopped sideways like a broken hinge no matter how many times the boy tried to prop it straight with grubby fingers. "You look like a proper idiot," the boy muttered, but he scratched the mangy spot behind the other, perfectly upright ear anyway. The dog—whose ribs showed through his patchy coat—leaned into the touch with a sigh that smelled faintly of rotten cabbage. "Two pence," said a polished boot, nudging the boy's knee. The man standing over him had the impatient stance of someone who'd already repeated himself. The boy scooped up his rag and tin without looking up. "Yes sir, right quick sir." His fingers moved automatically, rubbing circles into the leather while the dog watched with mild interest from the gutter. The man tossed the coins into the dirt when it was done. One rolled toward the dog, who sniffed it politely before letting it lie...