_TWO LOST PETS._
THAT night Maggie had a very bad earache. She tried to be patient, but
the pain was so severe that she could not help crying, and could get no
rest. Her father and mother were up with her almost all night, trying
to give her ease; but nothing did her any good until towards morning,
when she fell into a troubled sleep.
"Margaret," said Mr. Bradford at the breakfast-table, "is that
committee coming here this morning?"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Bradford.
"Mamma," said Bessie, "may I see it?"
"See what,--the committee?"
"Yes'm."
Mrs. Bradford smiled. "I do not think you would care much about it,
Bessie, and the committee will be too busy with its own affairs to care
to see you."
"Why, is it alive?" asked Bessie, in great surprise.
"To be sure," said Fred, before his mother could answer; "did you never
see one?"
"No," said Bessie, "could it bite me or scratch me?"
"It could if it had a mind to," said Fred, "and--" He was stopped by
Harry's hand over his mouth. Fred drew back his head, and looked angry.
"You gave me leave," said Harry.
"So I did," said Fred. "I beg your pardon, Bess, for plaguing you once
more. The committee wont hurt you; it's nothing but a lot of ladies."
"You should beg your mother's pardon, also, for answering a question
addressed to her," said Mr. Bradford; "it is a rude thing to do. Come
to me, Bessie." He took her upon his knee, saying, "A committee is a
number of people who are appointed to attend to some particular thing.
You know that the ladies in our church are going to make up some
clothing to send to the children at the Five Points' Mission; do you
not?"
"Yes, papa."
"Well, several of these ladies have been asked to make all the
arrangements for the meetings, and to have everything in order, so that
there may be no confusion when they come together to sew; and they are
called a committee. Your mamma is one of the committee, and the ladies
are to come here this morning. Do you understand?"
"Yes, papa."
It was quite late when Maggie awoke, long past breakfast-time, and
after she was dressed, she found her breakfast arranged for her in the
doll's tea-set, and Bessie ready to wait upon her. But our poor little
Maggie could not enjoy even this very much; she was languid and quite
tired out with pain, and her troublesome ear would not let itself be
forgotten, so that she did not feel much like play. Mamma took her
on her lap, rocked her, and read a new story-book, which suited much
better.
"I am sorry that I shall have to leave you for a while, dear," she
said. "If I had known that I was to have a little sick girl this
morning, I would not have asked the ladies to come here; but as it is,
I must go down. I do not think I shall be away more than an hour, and
you will be patient; will you not? Nurse will take care of you."
"And I will yead to her," said Bessie.
So when the ladies came, and mamma had to go down-stairs, she laid
Maggie on the lounge and covered her up, while Bessie sat down close
beside her with "Very Little Tales," and "Susie's Six Birthdays." Jane
had taken Franky to the park, and nurse, seeing Maggie so quiet and
comfortable, thought that she might leave her awhile.
"Baby's a bit fretful," she said, "and it's a shame to keep her in
the house this pleasant day. I'll just take her on the sidewalk for a
little fresh air. I'll not go out of sight, just up and down here a
piece, and if Maggie wants anything, you can come down and call me,
Bessie. I know you are to be trusted not to get in mischief."
Bessie was rather proud of being left to take care of Maggie, and
willingly agreed to let nurse go. The house seemed very still after she
had taken baby away. Bessie heard nothing but the sound of her own
sweet little voice as she read "Susie," and presently, looking up, she
saw that Maggie was fast asleep.
Flossy lay on the foot of the lounge, rolled up into a round ball, but
with his bright eyes wide open, watching Bessie. He had been frisking
about Maggie all the morning, trying to coax her to a game of play, but
he found it was of no use. He did not understand why his merry playmate
should be so quiet, nor did he approve of it. But he could not help it,
and so, like a wise dog, he seemed to have made up his mind to bear it,
though he lay watching and listening for the least sign of better times.
Bessie laid down her book, and sat looking at Maggie. "My poor Maggie,"
she said to herself, "she's so good and patient. I wish I could do
something for her, and I wish Aunt Annie or somebody would come and
see us and tell her a story while mamma is down-stairs. Oh, I wish
Colonel Yush would come; he tells us better stories than any one.
Wouldn't it be nice if he was to come while Maggie is asleep? and then
she'd see him when she wakes up, and she'd be so glad. If he knew she
was sick, I'm sure he would come. I'll just go out on the sidewalk and
ask nursey if she wont take me over to the hotel door, and then I'll go
up to my soldier's room and ask him to come and see Maggie."
She rose up softly from her chair and went into the nursery, followed
by Flossy, who, being very wide awake himself, had no mind to be left
with the sleeping Maggie, and jumped down from the lounge to run after
Bessie as soon as she stirred. Bessie went to the closet and took down
her garden-hat and sack from the peg where they hung. The hat was very
shabby, for it had been worn all summer at the sea-shore, and had seen
some hard use in the garden since she came home. But she could not
reach her best one, and said to herself that this would do, if nurse
would only let her wear it, of which she was not at all sure. She put
it on, walked down-stairs, and out upon the front stoop; but she saw no
sign of nurse. Up and down the street she looked, but the old woman was
nowhere to be seen.
Now the truth was, that nurse had not intended to lose sight of the
front-door, but as she passed Mr. Hall's house, Miss Carrie was at the
basement window, and calling her, begged that she would bring the baby
and let her speak to her. Nurse, always proud to show off her pet, was
willing enough, and for a few moments quite forgot her other nurslings,
as well as the open front-door; and it was just during these few
moments that Bessie came out to look for her.
"Nurse said she wouldn't go far away," said Bessie to herself, "and she
has, and now I can't go and find the colonel, 'cause mamma wouldn't
like me to go alone."
Flossy had run down to the foot of the steps, and there he stood,
wagging his tail, whisking and frisking, and altogether behaving like a
puppy who had quite taken leave of his senses, so glad was he to be out
of doors.
"We can't go, Flossy," said Bessie, as, with a sigh, she turned to go
into the house. "We're very disappointed, but we must mind mamma. Come,
Flossy, come. Don't you leave me, Flossy."
But Flossy was not so obedient as his little mistress, and instead of
coming back, he ran a short distance up the street, and then stopped,
barking joyously, and looking back to see if she were following.
Bessie went down the steps, calling him over and over again in such
a coaxing voice, that it was strange even such a wilful doggie could
resist. But it was of no use. Away went Flossy as fast as he could
run, and frightened at the thought of losing her pet, and forgetting
everything else, away went Bessie after him. Up to the end of the
block, around the corner, and so down the other side of the square,
till they came to the long, crowded crossing, over which Bessie was
never allowed to go without some grown person to hold her hand. Over it
went Flossy, in and out among the carriages and omnibuses, escaping the
wheels and the horses' hoofs in a way that was quite wonderful to see,
until he reached the opposite corner, where he again waited for Bessie.
But poor Bessie dared not cross by herself, and stood still in great
trouble.
"I wish I was over at the hotel," she said to herself, as she looked
up at the great building opposite, "and then the colonel would take me
home."
There was generally a tall policeman on the corner, whom Bessie knew
quite well, for he had often taken her hand, and led her over, or
sometimes even carried her if the stones were wet; but now he was not
there. In his place was another, who was a stranger to her, and now he
came over to her corner Bessie went up to him.
"Will you please tell me where my policeman is, sir?" she said.
"Who is your policeman?" said the officer.
"I don't know his name, but he takes me over the crossing, and mamma
don't 'low me to go alone."
"I suppose I can take you over as well as another," said he; "but your
mother must be a queer one to allow you to go out alone at all."
"She didn't," said Bessie, "and I didn't mean to, but Flossy yan away,
and I went to get him. Please take me over; I am afraid somebody will
catch him; then I'll go to the colonel's yoom, and he'll take me home."
The policeman lifted her up, and carried her to the opposite sidewalk.
Flossy was off again as soon as he saw her near him, but the officer
ran after him, and soon had him safe in Bessie's arms.
"And what are you going to do now?" said the good-natured man. "You're
over small for running about the streets by yourself."
"I am going to the colonel's," said Bessie. "I know the way, and he'll
take care of me."
She thanked him, and ran off; but the policeman followed till he saw
her go into the hotel as if she were quite sure of her way.
"She's all right," he said to himself, and then went back to his post,
thinking no more about the little stray lamb whom he had only helped
into farther trouble.
Bessie found her way without difficulty to the colonel's room, and
seeing the door open, she peeped in. There was no one there but a
servant-woman, who was dusting.
"Where is my soldier?" asked Bessie.
"Your soldier?" said the woman. "If you mean the lame gentleman, he and
the lady have gone out to ride. I don't want you here bothering round
with your dogs. Go back to your own rooms;" for the woman supposed
Bessie to be some child who belonged in the hotel.
"My soldier lets me come in his yoom when I choose, and it isn't yours
to talk about," said Bessie, very much offended, and she walked away
with her head very straight.
What should she do now? She would go back to the corner, she thought,
and ask her friend, the policeman, to take her home. But she was
becoming a little confused and frightened with all her troubles, and
when she left the hotel, turned the wrong way. On she went, farther
and farther from home, though she did not know it, and expected every
moment to see the well-known crossing. Some few people turned and
looked at her, as she passed with her dog clasped in her arms; but
she did not act at all like a lost child, and it was easy enough to
think that she was some little girl playing about her home and perhaps
watched by loving eyes.
At last she came near a broad avenue, where the cars were passing up
and down, and then she knew she was not on her way home. But just
then she heard music, and her eye was caught by a new sight. Quite a
crowd was gathered upon the sidewalk, where were two men, one with
a hand-organ, the other with a table on which little figures of
gayly-dressed men and women were spinning around. Bessie stopped to
look, standing back from the crowd; but three or four rough boys who
were hanging about took notice of her and her dog. Presently they came
up to her.
"Whose dog is that?" asked one.
"Mine and Maggie's," said Bessie.
"You give him to me, and I'll give you this," said the boy taking a
large red apple from his pocket.
"I can't even if I wanted to," said Bessie, "'cause he's half Maggie's."
"Well, you give me your half, and Maggie's will run after it."
"No," said the little girl. "I wouldn't give you my Flossy for fifty
seventeen apples;" and she walked away, but the boys followed.
"Where did you get so much hat?" said one.
"It is not much," said Bessie. "It is old and torn, 'cause I carried
peach-pits and stones in it. Mamma is going to give it away."
"I don't know who'd thank her for it," said another. "I guess your ma
spent all her money on your frock, and left none for your hat."
"She didn't," said Bessie, angrily; "she has plenty left."
"She's right stingy, then, to give you such a hat; it's only fit for
the gutter, so here goes!" and the rude boy twitched off the unlucky
hat, and sent it flying into the middle of the street, where a car
passed over it. Bessie did not care much about her hat, but she was
frightened and displeased.
"You are very yude," she said, "and I wont walk by you. You sha'n't
talk so about my mamma."
"Maybe we'll walk by you though," said the boy, and they kept by her
side for a few steps farther, when suddenly, with a loud yelp of pain,
Flossy sprang from her arms, for one of the boys had pinched his tail
so as to hurt him very much. The boys shouted, Flossy ran, they after
him, and the next moment one of them caught him up, and they all
disappeared with him round the corner.
Bessie ran on a few steps and then stood still, crying loudly with
terror and distress. Several persons immediately stopped, asking her
what ailed her, and if she were lost; but she only called, "Oh, Flossy,
Flossy! oh, mamma! oh, Maggie."
Among the people who stopped, was an old lady, who looked at Bessie
through her spectacles in rather a severe manner, and as she asked
questions in a quick, sharp way, the little girl felt afraid of her,
and would not answer. Poor lost baby! There she stood, bareheaded, with
the wind blowing her curls, her tiny hands over her face, crying so
pitifully that some of those who stood by felt as if they must cry with
her, but still no one could get a word from her.
But presently a policeman came by, and Bessie, looking up, saw him and
was a little comforted; for though he, too, was a stranger, she felt
somehow as if every policeman was a friend; and she ceased her loud
cries, though her sobs still came heavy and fast.
"Here's a lost child," said one of the crowd.
"Please take me home, sir," said Bessie, stretching out her hands to
him.
The tall officer was pleased, and, stooping, lifted the little creature
in his arms.
"Where do you belong?" he asked, kindly.
"In mamma's house," said Bessie.
"And where is mamma?"
"In a committee," answered the child.
"Humph!" said the old lady, who stood close at the policeman's side,
"in a committee, with a parcel of other foolish women, I suppose, while
her babies go running wild about the streets. She'd better attend to
her own affairs."
"She hadn't," said Bessie, who thought every one had something to say
against her own dear mother,--"she hadn't, and you are naughty to say
that. She's a nice, pretty lady, and better than anybody, and not a bit
foolish; and, oh, I do want her so, I do want her so!" and she began to
cry afresh.
"There then, never mind!" said the policeman; "we'll find her pretty
soon. Can't you tell me where you live?"
Bessie had long since been taught this, but now, in her fright and
distress, she quite forgot the street and number of the house, and only
shook her head.
"Tell me your name then," said the man.
"Bessie--Yush--Byad-ford," sobbed the child.
"Brightford--Brightford," repeated the policeman. "Does any one here
know any people of the name of Brightford?"
Poor little Bessie! Between her sobs and the difficulty of pronouncing
her r's, the officer had quite mistaken the name, and no one answered.
"You'll have to take her to the station-house," said the old lady.
"Oh, no, Mr. Policeman! I'm not to be taken up,--indeed, I'm not," said
Bessie. "I wasn't naughty, and mamma wont say so, only Flossy yan
away, and the colonel wasn't in his yoom, and I can't find my street."
"Poor baby!" said the policeman, as he felt her trembling in his arms.
"Nobody shall hurt you, my child; but if your people miss you, they
will send up to the station, and if I take you there, they will find
you right off. You can't tell where your mamma lives, hey?"
"I sha'n't talk about my mamma," said Bessie; "everybody says naughty
things about her; but I want to go to her, and please find Flossy, Mr.
Policeman."
"Who is Flossy?" asked he.
"He's her dog, I guess," said a boy who stood by. "Four big fellows
ran away with him. I se'ed 'em. They cut up the alley, and down by the
back lots. I guess you must cotch 'em in a hurry, or see no more of the
pup."
"Don't you believe that," said the policeman, as Bessie's tears and
sobs came faster than ever. "We'll find him for you one of these days;
but now I must see you safe;" and he moved on with the little girl in
his arms.
"Do you think some one will come and find me pretty soon?" she asked.
"To be sure they will. Have you a papa?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you be sure when he finds you are gone, he'll come right off to
the station-house to see if you are there. Why, the other day I picked
up a little chap in the street not nigh as big as you. He could scarce
walk, and couldn't speak a word plain, and there, when I got him to the
station, was his mother waiting for him."
So the officer talked on kindly and pleasantly, till Bessie was a
little comforted, and when they reached the station, looked eagerly
round to see if any of her own friends were there awaiting her. But
no, there was no one there yet, only several policemen were sitting or
standing about, to one of whom Bessie's protector spoke, telling him
where he had found her.
"And now I am going back to my beat," he said to the child, "and if any
one comes that way looking for you, I'll send them right up here."
Bessie's lip began to tremble once more. She had been terribly
disappointed to find that no one was waiting for her; and now here was
her new friend going away, and leaving her with these strangers.
"Don't you cry any more," said the second policeman, taking her from
the arms of the first. "Why, those brown eyes of yours are almost
washed out. Come along with me, and see me send off a telegraph message
to the other stations to say you're here."
"I couldn't help crying," said the little girl. "I had so many troubles
to-day."
"Bless your heart!" said the sergeant. "You shall tell me all about
them presently. Why, you are just about the size of my Jenny, and I
wouldn't like to see her looking that way."
When the policeman spoke of telling him her troubles, it came into
Bessie's mind that she had not told them to her Father in heaven, and
covering her face with her little hands, she whispered, "Dear Father
in heaven, please let my own home father come and find me very soon,
'cause I'm so tired, and I want my own mamma; and don't let those
naughty boys hurt my Flossy, and let papa find him too."
The officer heard the low, soft whisper so close to his ear, though she
had not meant he should. "Bless her!" he said to himself, "I guess her
father'll be brought along pretty soon after that."
Bessie was now quite interested in watching the working of the
telegraph wires which were put in motion to carry the message that a
stray child was to be found at this station. One of the men who had
gone out came back, bringing her a cake and an apple, but though it was
long past her usual dinner hour, she could not eat.
"Now," said the sergeant, sitting down and putting her upon his knee,
"let us hear all about those troubles of yours;" for the kind man
thought if he could make her talk of herself, he might find out where
she belonged.
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