*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75465 ***





  Transcriber’s Note
  Italic text displayed as: _italic_




_MY FRIEND DOGGIE_

_or_

AN ONLY CHILD.


_Up_ at the Hall there was only one little girl. She was, however, such
a very pretty little girl, and so very gentle and sweet-tempered, that
she could hardly have been improved upon, and all the eight children at
the Lodge loved her.

[Illustration: Girl and dog]

The eight children at the Lodge were not particularly pretty, neither
were they particularly good, but they had warm, affectionate little
hearts, and I suppose that, as each baby brings love into the world
with it, there was eight times the amount of love in the cottage that
there was at the Hall.

[Illustration: Girl with two dogs]

When the children at the cottage looked curiously at the little lady in
her velvet and fur, their mother used to be ashamed of them, and tell
them that beauty was only skin-deep, and it was better to be good than
pretty—and they all believed her except Bet, and on that dreadful day
when Francey told the little lady to her face that she did not see she
(the little lady) was a bit better than she was, except for her clothes,
poor Mrs. Smith had wept tears of sorrow and mortification, and Francey
had dined on dry bread for a week—and they had all again implicitly
believed, as their mother had told them, that they were only common
children and Miss Dolly was a very superior being indeed—except Bet.

[Illustration: Man with boy and girl]

Bet was the youngest but one, so it was the seventh time the Angel of
Love had come to the cottage when he was born. He was particularly
plain—bless his heart, just like his dear father, Mrs. Smith used to
say to the servants at the Hall—and although he brought plenty of love
into the poor home, unfortunately he did not bring any extra bread and
butter with him.

Bet was a dreadful boy—what his mother called a limb. He used to plant
his sturdy legs apart, and gape at Miss Dolly and the Squire, without
a touch of his cap or a pull at his rough curls, for all the world as
if they were common cottage people like himself—for sometimes when a
little common child is born the fairies forget to tell him that he is
not quite like the upper classes, and then he is very apt to go through
life never learning the difference at all, and having the impertinence
sometimes to grow up into something quite original.

[Illustration: Girl with two younger kids]

But the funny thing was that, for all his impudent ways, it was Bet
that Miss Dolly chose to love out of all the children at the Lodge. If
she ran away from the nurse or her governess in the garden, they were
sure to find her sitting behind a bush with Bet, sharing strawberries
on a leaf, or making cups and saucers out of acorns.

Her mother used to laugh, and say that an only child must have someone
to play with, and that Bet was a dear impudent boy, with his brown
curls and his twinkling eyes and his ugly face.

Now Bet was very fond of animals, and the gamekeeper had given him a
spaniel puppy, and the gardener’s boy had given him a kitty, and one
winter’s morning he had raced them down the avenue together and into
the road.

Just as he got through the gate of the avenue he saw a whole lot of
rough boys bounding and leaping towards him, and before he knew what
they were going to do they had seized the poor little kitty, and were
tossing it from one to the other as if it were a ball.

Bet was terrified and he was furious—and, above all, he heard the
mewing of the frightened kitty as she clung with teeth and claws to the
cruel hand—but Bet was only six years old, and though he kicked and
struck and fought, the boys just laughed and shook him off as if he had
been a cross puppy, and not a very brave, angry, ugly little boy.

[Illustration: Boy and girl sitting]

But at that moment there came to his ears the sweetest sound he had
ever heard—the sound of flying feet upon the gravel, and a furious
screaming voice, much more like an infuriated cockatoo than a very
superior little girl.

“You leave that boy’s kitten alone!” she was shouting, as she came
flying down the drive in her fur cloak and scarlet hat. “You—you
cowards—I’ll call the gardeners. I’ll call the coachman. You leave that
cat alone!”

[Illustration: Group of boys playing with a cat]

She had plunged into the midst of them, kicking and hitting much
harder than Bet had done, and attracting so much attention that Smith
rushed out of the cottage with his stick and Mrs. Smith’s red face
appeared at an upper window. But Dolly had won the victory before the
reinforcements arrived. The boys had dispersed in a great hurry at the
sight of the stick and Smith’s powerful arm, and Dolly and Bet were
huddled on the bank by the roadside together, with the poor frightened
pussy clasped in their arms. Dolly was crying, now that the need for
courage was over, and Bet was very white and very still, for a great
resolve was forming itself in his mind, and it took all his strength to
be capable of the sacrifice. The whole family came out to comfort Dolly
and dry her tears, and Smith himself prepared to escort her back to the
house. Her own spaniels, Dash and Dandy, had found her out, and were
leaping joyfully upon her, partly from affection no doubt, but partly
because she still held the long-suffering pussy out of the way of their
frantic leaps.

“I’m ever so much obliged to you, Miss Dolly,” said Mrs. Smith, wiping
the mud and snow off her fur cloak, and she looked round furtively at
Bet to see if he had it in his mind to be polite or not.

But there was so need to tell Bet to pull his curly locks to-day. Even
if one is an independent young Briton, with very crude ideas of social
distinctions, one is often blessed with very strong feelings of love or
gratitude, and Bet’s blue eyes were shining.

“I’ll never forget,” he said; “I’ll give you my best—always—I won’t
never forget.”

He choked and ran away into the house, and Mrs. Smith excused him. “You
see, he’s but young, Miss,” she said, “and he’s not free of his words,
but he’s very much your debtor for the cat, that he is.”

[Illustration: Mother and daughter]

So Smith and the big stick, and Dash and Dolly, strolled away to the
house together.

Half way along the avenue they came upon three of the eight children
scattering salt upon the snow, hoping it might lodge upon the tail of
a fat robin that was hopping from twig to twig. They shrank away out
of their father’s sight, but Dolly could not resist stopping to see if
they succeeded. However, Dash and Dandy made such a rush at the fat
robin, both at once, that he flew away with a frightened chirp, and
Dolly nodded to the children, and ran on home.

[Illustration: Boy sleeping with dog]

But all that day Bet sat moodily in his little corner by the grate,
with the great resolve taking root in his slow mind. To-morrow was
Christmas Day and he wanted to make Miss Dolly a present, and in all
the world he had only one thing of his very own of any value and that
was his puppy. He wanted to give it to her, and in his heart he meant
to give it to her, but it was like tearing a very precious flower up by
the roots to take this great love out of his life; for he _did_ love
it. It ate out of his saucer at meals and slept in his crib at night,
and, however little there might be to eat, Bet’s share was equally
divided with the puppy.

He did not tell his mother what he was thinking about, or why his tears
fell that night into the puppy’s saucer, because she used to say to Bet
sometimes that they were too poor to be generous, and Bet did not want
to hear her say that to-night; so he crept silently to bed and laid his
cheek upon the puppy’s coat, and in two minutes they were fast asleep.

[Illustration: Young boy with puppy]

And that was how it happened that on Christmas morning there was an
empty chair at the crowded table, and a neglected basin of bread and
milk standing on the hob. There were no Christmas stockings for the
Lodge children and no parcels on their plates, but Mrs. Smith loved
all her children very much, and especially Bet, so she kept going
uneasily between the window and the fire, saying anxiously, first to
one and then to another: “Wherever is the boy?”

Now the Lodge children were well brought up, and under no circumstances
were they allowed to talk at meals, but when Mrs. Smith had repeated
her question for about the twentieth time, one fat child, bolder than
the rest, said, stolidly:

“He’s up to the Hall, mother; he’s going to make a present of the pup
to Miss Dolly.”

“Dear, dear,” said the mother, doubtfully, “to think of that;
whatever’ll the Squire think—dear, dear, now—the impudence of Bet.”

Seeing her conversational effort was so well received the bold little
girl made another venture:

“He’s just _wropt_ up in Miss Dolly,” she said.

“Tut, tut,” said her mother, hastily, “that’s very unbecoming,
Susan—dear, dear, what a saying; well, put his bowl on one side,
Francey, and clean up the children for church.”

[Illustration: Boy with puppy in hand walking up stairs]

Bet had started in the early morning over the crisp hard ground, with
the doomed puppy at his heels. He had quite fought out the matter with
himself, and he felt he was _glad_ to give up the puppy—all the more
glad, perhaps, because the fight had been a hard one. Every two or
three steps he turned to look at the soft little creature, tumbling
over itself and making frantic efforts to keep up with his bold
strides. Once it crept on to a bit of ice, and his blood ran cold
with fear, but at last he reached the great front steps, and sat down
exhausted with the puppy in his arms. Its tongue was out and its head
hanging, and they were both nearly asleep when the door was opened
suddenly behind them and a soft voice said: “Why, Bet! and the puppy!”

[Illustration: Girl holding dolls with puppies and a cat on the floor]

Bet was on his feet in a minute. “It’s for Miss Dolly—I brought it
up—it’s the only thing that’s mine.”

“My dear little boy, Dolly will be so pleased.” Dolly’s mother thought,
with a pang, of Dolly as she had seen her an hour ago, with arms full
of toys, and her room littered with presents, and then of that other
home, so full of children, so bare of presents, out of which another
generous gift had come for Dolly. There were eight sealed parcels lying
in the housekeeper’s room, but a generous impulse prevented her from
speaking of them to Bet just now. She could hear Dolly on the stairs,
and Bet’s solemn little voice, and the puppy’s squeals—and she was
glad to think that she _had_ remembered, and that Dolly would have the
joy of coming too when she took the eight parcels to the Lodge. Far
better than rank or distinction or money is the love that levels all—an
everlasting bond between the Hall and the Lodge.

  _Geraldine Glasgow._

[Illustration: Wrapped packages]



*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75465 ***