"Old dog, you are dead--we must all of us die--
You are gone, and gone whither? Can any one say?
I trust you may live again, somewhat as I,
And haply, `go on to perfection'--some way!"
Tupper.
Poor little Fairy Mary, the favourite pet of Aileen Aroon, went the way
of all rats at last. She was not killed. No cat took her. Our own
cats were better-mannered than to touch a pet. But we all went away on
a summer holiday, and as it was not convenient to take every one of our
pets with us, Mary was left at home in charge of the servants. When we
returned she was gone, dead and buried. She had succumbed to a tumour
in the head which was commencing ere we started.
I think Aileen missed her very much, for she used to lie and watch the
empty cage for an hour at a time, thinking no doubt that by-and-by Fairy
Mary would pop out of some of her usual haunts.
"Dolls" was one of Aileen's contemporaries, and one that she had no
small regard for. Dolls was a dog, and a very independent little fellow
he was, as his story which I here give will show.
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