IN WHICH SNARLEYYOW DOES NOT AT ALL ASSIST HIS MASTER'S CAUSE WITH THE
WIDOW VANDERSLOOSH.
It will be necessary to explain to the reader by what means the life of
our celebrated cur was preserved. When Smallbones had thrown him into
the canal, tied up, as he supposed, in his winding-sheet, what Mr
Vanslyperken observed was true, that there were people below, and the
supposed paving-stone might have fallen upon them: the voices which he
heard were those of a father and son, who were in a small boat going
from a galliot to the steps where they intended to land; for this canal
was not like most others, with the water in it sufficiently high to
enable people to step from the vessel's gunwale to the jetty.
Snarleyyow fell in his bag a few yards ahead of the boat, and the splash
naturally attracted their attention; he did not sink immediately, but
floundered and struggled so as to keep himself partly above water.
"What is that?" exclaimed the father to his son, in Dutch.
"Mein Gott! who is to know?--but we will see;" and the boy took the
boat-hook, and with it dragged the bread-bags towards the boat, just as
they were sinking, for Snarleyyow was exhausted with his efforts. The
two together dragged the bags with their contents into the boat.
"It is a dog or something," observed the son.
"Very well, but the bread-bags will be useful," replied the father, and
they pulled on to the landing-stairs. When they arrived there they
lifted out the bags, laid them on the stone steps, and proceeded to
unrip them, when they found Snarleyyow, who was just giving signs of
returning animation. They took the bags with them, after having rolled
his carcase out, and left it on the steps, for there was a fine for
throwing anything into the canal. The cur soon after recovered, and was
able to stand on his legs; so soon as he could walk he made his way to
the door of the widow Vandersloosh, and howled for admittance. The
widow had retired: she had been reading her book of _prieres_, as every
one should do who has been cheating people all day long. She was about
to extinguish her light, when this serenade saluted her ears; it became
intolerable as the dog gained strength.
Babette had long been fast asleep, and was with difficulty roused up and
directed to beat the cur away. She attempted to perform the duty,
arming herself with the broom; but the moment she opened the door
Snarleyyow dashed in between her legs, upsetting her on the brick
pavement. Babette screamed, and her mistress came out in the passage to
ascertain the cause; the dog not being able to run into the parlour,
bolted up the stairs, and snapping at the widow as he passed, secured a
berth underneath her bed.
"Oh, mein Gott! it is the dog of the lieutenant," exclaimed Babette,
coming up the stairs in greater dishabille than her mistress, and with
the broom in her hand. "What shall we do--how shall we get rid of him?"
"A thousand devils may take the lieutenant, and his nasty dog, too,"
exclaimed the widow, in great wrath; "this is the last time that either
of them enter my house; try, Babette, with your broom--shove at him
hard."
"Yes, ma'am," replied Babette, pushing with all her strength at the dog
beneath the bed, who seized the broom with his teeth, and pulled it away
from Babette. It was a struggle of strength between the girl and
Snarleyyow--pull, Babette--pull, dog--one moment the broom, with
two-thirds of the handle, disappeared under the bed, the next the maid
recovered her lost ground. Snarleyyow was first tired of this
contention, and to prove that he had no thoughts of abandoning his
position, he let go the broom, flew at Babette's naked legs, and having
inserted his teeth half through her ankle, he returned growling to his
former retreat. "O dear, mein Gott!" exclaimed Babette, dropping her
broom, and holding her ankle with both hands.
"What shall we do?" cried the widow, wringing her hands.
It was indeed a case of difficulty. Mynheer Vandersloosh, before he had
quitted this transitory scene, had become a personage as bulky as the
widow herself, and the bed had been made unusually wide; the widow still
retained the bed for her own use, for there was no knowing whether she
might not again be induced to enter the hymeneal state. It occupied
more than one half of the room, and the dog had gained a position from
which it was not easy for two women to dislodge him; and, as the dog
snarled and growled under the bed, so; did the widow's wrath rise as she
stood shivering--and it was directed against the master. She vowed
mentally, that so sure as the dog was under the bed, so sure should his
master never get into it.
And Babette's wrath was also kindled, now that the first pain of the
bite had worn off; she seized the broom again, and made some furious
lunges at Snarleyyow, so furious, that he could not regain possession
with his teeth. The door of the room had been left open that the dog
might escape--so had the street-door; and the widow stood at the foot of
the bed, waiting for some such effect being produced by Babette's
vigorous attacks; but the effects were not such as she anticipated; the
dog became more enraged, and at last sprang out at the foot of the bed,
flew at the widow, tore her only garment, and bit her in the leg. Frau
Vandersloosh screamed and reeled--reeled against the door left half open
and falling against it, slammed it to with her weight, and fell down
shrieking. Snarleyyow, who probably had intended to make off, seeing
that his escape was prevented, again retreated under the bed, and as
soon as he was there he recommenced an attack upon Babette's legs.
Now, it appears, that what the united courage of the two females could
not accomplish, was at last effected by their united fears. The widow
Vandersloosh gained her legs as soon as she could, and at first opened
the door to run out, but her night dress was torn to ribbons in front.
She looked at her situation--modesty conquered every other feeling--she
burst into tears, and exclaiming, "Mr Vanslyperken! Mr Vanslyperken!"
she threw herself in an ecstasy of grief and rage on the centre of the
bed. At the same moment the teeth of the dog were again fixed upon the
ankles of Babette, who also shrieked, and threw herself on the bed, and
upon her mistress. The bed was a good bed, and had for years done its
duty; but you may even overload a bed, and so it proved in this
instance. The united weights of the mistress and the maid coming down
upon it with such emphasis, was more than the bed could bear--the
sacking gave way altogether, and the mattress which they lay upon was
now supported by the floor.
But this misfortune was their preservation--for when the mattress came
down, it came down upon Snarleyyow. The animal contrived to clear his
loins, or he would have perished; but he could not clear his long mangy
tail, which was now caught and firmly fixed in a new species of trap,
the widow's broadest proportions having firmly secured him by it.
Snarleyyow pulled, and pulled, but he pulled in vain--he was fixed--he
could not bite, for the mattress was between them--he pulled, and he
howled, and barked, and turned himself every way, and yelped; and had
not his tail been of coarse and thick dimensions, he might have left it
behind him, so great were his exertions; but no, it was impossible. The
widow was a widow of substance, as Vanslyperken had imagined, and as she
now proved to the dog--the only difference was, that the master wished
to be in the very situation the dog was now so anxious to escape from--
to wit, tailed on to the widow. Babette, who soon perceived that the
dog was so, now got out of the bed, and begging her mistress not to move
an inch, and seizing the broom, she hammered Snarleyyow most
unmercifully, without any fear of retaliation. The dog redoubled his
exertions, and the extra weight of Babette being now removed, he was at
last able to withdraw his appendage, and probably feeling that there was
now no chance of a quiet night's rest in his present quarters, he made a
bolt out of the room down the stairs, and into the street. Babette
chased him down, threw the broom at his head as he cleared the
threshold, and then bolted the door.
"O the beast!" exclaimed Babette, going up stairs again out of breath;
"he's gone at last, ma'am."
"Yes," replied the widow, rising up with difficulty from the hole made
with her own centre of gravity; "and--and his master shall go too. Make
love, indeed--the atomy--the shrimp--the dried up stock-fish. Love,
quotha--and refuse to hang a cur like that. O dear! O dear! get me
something to put on. One of my best chemises all in rags--and his nasty
teeth in my leg in two places, Babette. Well, well, Mr Vanslyperken,
we shall see--I don't care for their custom. Mr Vanslyperken, you'll
not sit on my sofa again, I can tell you;--hug your nasty cur--quite
good enough for you. Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken."
By this time the widow had received a fresh supply of linen from
Babette; and as soon as she had put it on she rose from the bed, the
fractured state of which again called forth her indignation.
"Thirty-two years have I had this bed, wedded and single, Babette!"
exclaimed the widow. "For sixteen years did I sleep on that bed with
the lamented Mr Vandersloosh--for sixteen years have I slept in it, a
lone widow--but never till now did it break down. How am I to sleep
to-night? What am I to do, Babette?"
"'Twas well it did break down, ma'am," replied Babette, who was
smoothing down the jagged skin at her ankles; "or we should never have
got the nasty biting brute out of the house."
"Very well--very well. Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken--marriage, indeed,
I'd as soon marry his cur."
"Mein Gott!" exclaimed Babette. "I think, madam, if you did marry, you
would soon find the master as cross as the dog; but I must make this
bed."
Babette proceeded to examine the mischief, and found that it was only
the cords which tied the sacking which had given way, and considering
that they had done their office for thirty-two years and the strain
which had been put upon them after so long a period, there was not munch
to complain of. A new cord was procured, and, in a quarter of an hour,
all was right again; and the widow, who had sat in the chair fuming and
blowing off her steam, as soon as Babette had turned down the bed turned
in again, muttering, "Yes, yes, Mr Vanslyperken--marriage indeed.
Well, well, we shall see. Stop till to-morrow, Mr Vanslyperken;" and
as Babette has closed the curtains, so will we close this chapter.