JACK AND JILL WADDLES
This is a chronicle of the doings of Jack and Jill the twins, pups of
Waddles and Happy of Happy Hall, who, from the age of twelve days when
they completely opened their eyes on the world, thought for a time,
until they met experience, that it was made exclusively for themselves,
according to the thinking of many two-footed children.
After the going away of Lumberlegs, Waddles’s youth came back to him.
He went off on long excursions with his neighbours, bayed a juicy tenor
in the quartet that led the Dogtown chorus in its practise on moonlight
nights, and actually threw bones into the air and played with them as
of old.
Not that he could turn as quickly, and his portliness got rather in the
way as he tried to double on himself; but the spirit was there, which
is the thing that counts.
Waddles, Mayor of Dogtown, had always been an important person, but
Waddles, the married man, father of a family and master of a home
consisting of three houses surrounded by a fine yard and equipped with
porcelain-lined food dishes, hay pillows, and other luxuries, was of
double dignity.
With the extra food supply necessary for more dogs, he was able to
be a greater patron of the poor in the line of bones and left-over
dog biscuit. Also it was not an unusual thing to see him piloting a
tired and thirsty dog, who had been following a team bound for the
market town, to the trough that caught the well drippings, and then
to a particularly cool resting spot under the quince bushes; for this
particular highway was a trying place for thirsty animals, as there was
not a single spring or drinking-trough between the Hilltop Kennels and
Happy Hall. Yet, in spite of all this outside notoriety, as far as his
own particular family was concerned, he was tolerated, but that was
about all.
Anne expected that he would be sad or resentful, as when Lumberlegs
claimed affection that Waddles considered his own exclusive property.
He was neither the one nor the other. The proverb, “Every dog has its
day,” is evidently one of the recognized family dog laws. It was Mrs.
Happy Waddles’s day just then, for was she not the mother of the twins?
It was to her apartments in the big kennel once owned by Lumberlegs
that visitors went and gave ohs and ahs of admiration. Her ladyship had
new milk and all the tidbits, and did not have to submit to a bath for
several weeks lest she should be chilled.
Waddles was polite but bored; he spent a great deal of time under the
flap of the cellar door where he could keep an eye on his home from a
distance. He also did a great deal of thinking in these days.
There are people who say that dogs have no family life, but that is
either because these people do not really know dogs or have only seen
them reared in great kennels, for kennel dogs are as different in their
instincts and feelings from home dogs as orphan-asylum children are
from home-cuddled babies.
Though Waddles kept rather aloof from his family, what else could he
do? As they were not living in a state of wild nature it was not
necessary for him to hunt food for them.
If he asked Happy to take a walk, she would give him her usual little
caress on the nose and trot beside him as far as the gate perhaps, then
suddenly turn as if she had forgotten something, drop her body after a
way she had when she put on speed, and dash back to her house as if it
was the burrow of a rabbit whose fresh trail she had crossed.
Once or twice Waddles had gone into the nursery kennel and sniffed at
the pups in an inquisitive sort of way, but Happy immediately nosed
herself between them and their father, as much as to say, “Please be
careful, men are so awkward,” when he quickly retired under the cellar
door, to his watch tower on the porch corner, or to his bachelor
kennel, the third and smallest house of the group. This he had always
used as a retreat from sun and rain, or when he was too muddy from
hunting to make him welcome in the house, only being chained there as a
punishment or in emergencies.
When Jack and Jill were three weeks old, and might fairly be said to be
on their legs, they were as pretty a pair of beagles as one could wish
to see. Equally mated in size, build, and general colouring, Jack,
however, having the longer ears and rich brown head markings; yet in
temper and general behaviour they were as different from one another as
any two dogs could be.
Jack was affectionate and sedate, with a patient expression in his
steel-blue eyes that one day would, doubtless, be deep brown like
his father’s. Jill was impetuous, which often passes for affection,
capricious as April sunshine, with an expression of pretty impertinence
upon her face. She had dark lashes and a rim of dark brown around the
edges of her eyelids which gave her a look of mingled wisdom, slyness,
and determination to have her own way, that was at first captivating.
Happy was a model mother, and as soon as the pups had their breakfast
she gave each a bath from head to foot, or rather tail tip, with much
effort and many grunts.
These were the first puppies that Anne had ever been with so intimately
that she could watch their growth from day to day, and it seemed as
if she did little else but watch them when she was out of school;
in addition she had all that she could manage in keeping Tommy from
carrying them about, to the destruction of their digestions and the
straining of their backs.
All Anne’s persuasion, however, did not have as much effect as the
peremptory bark and nip in the ankle that Happy administered one
morning, when she surprised Tommy in waking the twins from their nap
that he might take them to ride in his wheelbarrow, for Happy, usually
so meek, was at that time a despot whom no one on the premises thought
of disobeying, with the exception of her daughter.
It was very easy for Happy to give Jack his bath, but with Jill her
patience was sorely tried. When it was time to do her back she would
roll over and kick her legs in the air, chew her mother’s ear, or make
a tug-of-war rope of her tail. Then, when the bath was completed all
but her fat little stomach, she would grind it into the dirt and brace
her paws, until her mother, quite out of patience, with a twist of one
paw would lay Jill on her back with a growled rebuke and a curious
threatening expression of face which she made by turning back her upper
lip from her teeth, as both fighting dogs and wolves do when freeing
their jaws to bite.
At three weeks old Jill had developed a shrill bark full ten days in
advance of her brother. At four weeks she succeeded both in catching
her own tail and in washing some mud from her hind paw very neatly.
When Jack attempted to do the same he only tumbled backward out of the
nursery door into the water dish, aided by a push from his sister,
who then rolled frantically about the floor in glee, while his mother
roused from her one-eye-open doze and seized the opportunity to give
him an extra bath.
When the twins were six weeks old Happy began their education in
earnest. Kennel puppies are usually weaned about this time and are
separated from their mother, so that instead of being trained by
her to act and think for themselves, they only learn, often through
punishment, blind obedience to rules they do not understand. Of course
this sort of puppyhood does not make as clever a dog as the other.
Waddles himself was an example of early training by his mother, who,
being a poor widow with a large family and owned by a very unsuccessful
truck farmer, had great difficulty in making both ends meet;
consequently Waddles and his brothers and sisters were taught very
early to shift for themselves.
It was owing to his patient cleverness in catching a small squirrel by
the roadside that Waddles, when only four months old, had attracted the
attention of Anne’s father, who bought him from his owner for five
dollars. As Anne once said, it seemed strange that five dollars could
buy so much when often one got so little for it; and then as she grew
to love him as a friend she did not like to think that he was bought
at all, for it did not seem right to sell such as he without his own
consent.
* * * * *
After learning to be clean, the second lesson that Happy taught the
twins was how to keep cool. Anne knew very well that dogs do not
perspire like people, but only by the moisture that drips from their
mouths, so that they need plenty of cool water to drink and shady
places to lie in if they are to be comfortable in hot weather. She also
knew that Waddles and Lumberlegs dug themselves holes in the dirt, as
she thought to keep off the flies; but why Happy should try to burrow
under the foundation of the nursery puzzled her. It was not to bury
bones, for the chosen spot for that was far away from home.
To help her, as well as to see what she would do, Anne loosened two
or three stones from the foundation of the tool house that stood next
to the kennel, much to Happy’s delight, who then began to burrow
furiously, throwing the dirt behind her with her strong front paws.
All day long she worked, while as soon as the dirt ceased coming out at
the mouth of the burrow Anne could hear it flying up against the floor
of the tool house, which, by the way, her father also used as a dark
room for developing photographs. Late in the afternoon Anne heard Happy
whining by the outside wall. She had kept at work all day, only leaving
to feed the pups who at this time varied their milk diet with a dinner
of puppy biscuit soaked in weak soup. Anne loosened a couple of stones
at this side as well, and in a very few minutes Happy dug herself out
and circled about, barking with every symptom of joy. But when Anne was
about to replace the stones, the little beagle thrust herself between
her mistress and the burrow in the same way as she had come between
Waddles and the pups, when he came to look at them.
Anne saw that Happy was working out some plan of her own, so she waited
and the next day discovered it.
In the morning when she went to look at the pups they were nowhere to
be seen, the gate of the yard was closed, and for a moment Anne feared
they might have been stolen, but baby barks from under the tool house
reassured her. Going to the outside opening of the burrow and lying
flat in the grass she peered in. At first she could see nothing, but in
a minute the light from between the stone chinks revealed Happy and the
twins stretched flat on their stomachs in the fresh earth, Mamma dozing
comfortably, the youngsters yap-yapping to themselves; for having a
deaf parent they were quite safe in saying anything that they chose.
“It’s a cool house, a regular summer day-nursery, the dear clever
mother to think of it!” exclaimed Anne in delight, quite forgetful of
the fact that her own chin was resting in the dirt.
“Of course if it’s the earth cooling down at night that makes the dew
collect, it must cool their fat little stomachs somehow the same way,
and puppy stomachs always seem to be boiling warm. Here we’ve been and
pounded the dirt in the kennel yard as hard as rock to keep it from
being dug up, just as if digging was only mischief instead of a ‘must
be.’ Of course all dogs aren’t as wise about it as Happy and it _was_
rather mean of Lumberlegs last summer to make a cooler out of mother’s
mignonette bed when it was in full bloom.”
* * * * *
It would never do for puppies to stay still all day even in so
delightful a place as their mother had made. Its best use was as a
retreat after exercising, of which they had plenty.
If their food supply had been uncertain, “food burying” would have
undoubtedly been their next lesson, and as it was, instinct whispered
in Jill’s beautiful brown ears one day when she was eight weeks old,
and when Jack was being vigorously flead by his mother she took his
portion of puppy biscuit and laid it, piece by piece, in the deep hoof
tracks of the barn road, where a few shoves from her nose quickly
covered it.
Jack, on the other hand, did not begin to bury food until he was fully
ten weeks old and had become quite accustomed to seeing his mother,
father, and sister perform the task. Even then he did not use any
judgment in the selection of a place or dig proper holes, but made very
conspicuous mounds in the middle of the walks where the cache could be
seen by the first passer-by.
It was at this time that Anne discovered that Happy had two different
ways of burying extra food. Meat or bones she invariably put in the
earth, digging deep and covering carefully that the morsel might keep
cool and not ripen too fast. She usually chose soft spots in the
vegetable garden for this. Often having more food in storage than she
needed, it stayed so long that the Sexton Beetles gut away with a good
deal of it, much to Happy’s surprise; for as they bore it to their
lairs underground, there was no surface trail to tell her keen nose
whence it had been carried or by whom.
If the morsel she wished to hide was dog biscuit, oatmeal cake, or
corn-bread, Happy worked quite differently. After finding a thick tuft
of grass, she pushed the scrap well into the centre of it and then
pulled the grass blades together over the top, weaving them loosely as
if her nose and upper front teeth had been a crochet needle.
[Illustration]
To “watch out” was one of the earliest lessons the puppies had to
learn, and as it was taught partly in the cool house and partly on the
road outside it afforded the children endless amusement. “Watching out”
also included taking notice of every strange thing that was brought
to the premises, as well as of things neither new nor strange, and
thoroughly investigating them. As may be supposed many mishaps came of
this habit, as when Jack, sniffing at a basket containing live lobsters
which the fishmonger’s boy had left on the step while he carried a
parcel to the kitchen, carelessly thrust his nose in too far and was
seized by a sturdy lobster claw. There was a yelp of pain, and pup and
lobster went whirling around the big apple tree. The entire household
came to the rescue, and Jack retired to the cooling house wiser not
only by the experience of a nipped nose, but a pinched tail as well.
It was not the fault of his mother’s lessons--he simply had not put two
and two together; in his eagerness to see what the lobster was doing he
had entirely forgotten to “watch out” for danger.
In the early morning, before the sun had crept around the apple tree,
the twins usually sat on either side of the doorway to the burrow,
with their mother lying on the grass near by. The two places were not
equally good, as from one side the entire length of the path from the
gate, as well as the garden and stables, could be seen at a glance,
while from the other they could only see one way at a time without much
neck twisting.
[Illustration: _Toad Hunting._]
Jill nearly always managed to secure the best place and if Jack
happened to get there in advance of her she resorted to various tactics
to dislodge him. First she would amble down the walk with an eager
expression on her face, and give a bark or two as if at an intruder.
If this did not bring Jack out, she would sniff at the ground and then
begin to dig frantically, giving the most ludicrous growls the while.
Jack’s curiosity usually overcame him at this point, for toad hunting
was one of the twins’ favourite sports, and he was never tired of
digging out a fat old patriarch with a spotted hide who lived under a
stone by the pump, and making him hop-hop-hop until he refused to budge
another step and flattened himself obstinately in the dirt, when he was
allowed to go home and rest for the next day’s excursion, and, strange
to say, the toad rather seemed to like the performance.
If both these lures failed, Jill would resort to force by sitting
squarely on top of her brother. Soon he would move a little in order to
breathe more freely or stretch his legs. As soon as he stirred, Jill
settled more heavily until she was wedged between her brother and the
stone side of the burrow, then one determined push settled the matter,
and he would roll over, look at her ruefully, stretch himself, and
take the second best place.
Jack had a lovely disposition and never seemed to suspect any one of
evil intentions; as often as Jill played tricks upon him he was always
surprised. Jill was much more quick-witted and far better able to take
care of herself, but not half so pleasant a companion, Anne thought.
Jack made friends very slowly and dodged into the burrow if a stranger
came near; but when his confidence was won, he did not forget. Jill
was all airs and graces; flatteringly friendly one minute and a little
spitfire the next.
Happy took care that the pups should have plenty of exercise to develop
their muscles, and when she thought they had dozed long enough in
the cooling house, she would get them out and incite them to play by
running round in a circle, keeping to the outside edge at each round so
that the course gradually widened until it took in the whole lawn.
There were boxing and wrestling matches, also, in which Jill again
usually had the advantage, for though Jack was the heaviest and had the
longest reach, she was quick as a flash and invariably lost her temper
and fought in earnest before the finish; then Happy interfered and
began her endless task of washing the pair and crushing the fleas with
her searching front teeth.
[Illustration]
At about four months the twins began to cut their grown-up teeth. This
time was a period of disaster, for no one could predict what they would
next choose for teething purposes.
One day the barn was the scene of action. Baldy’s new rubber boots, a
carriage sponge, and a horse blanket that hung low enough to be pulled
from the rack were the sufferers.
The next week, after rolling very thoroughly on some linen that was
spread to bleach, they turned their attention to what hung from the
line. Jill discovered that swinging to and fro by fastening to a pyjama
leg was good sport. Jack, trying to imitate her, unluckily chose
for his swing the waitress’s best apron with an embroidered frill.
Immediately there was a tearing sound, the slam of a door, and a much
grieved pup assisted by a swinging slap from a wet towel disappeared in
the burrow.
Jill immediately scented danger, and dropped the pyjama leg. The tears
she had made were not discovered until the garment was ironed, and then
it was laid to Jack’s account.
Anne, meanwhile, was obliged to make the waitress a new apron, because
she had been in charge of the twins at the time the mischief was done,
the rule now being that they must not play at large until they had
learned how to behave. Anne had fully intended to watch them closely,
but a strange bird song had floated over from the next field, and with
a reassuring look at the pups who were pursuing the poor patient toad,
she dashed off for only ten minutes, but that was quite enough.
Tommy, however, was the indirect cause of the worst disaster of all,
after an interim of several weeks when the daily damage had been
merely the natural wear and tear of grass scratched up, an occasional
roll in a flower-bed, or the mauling of a young chicken.
This happened a couple of months after Miss Letty’s arrival, when the
most serious haying of the season was in progress and the last loads of
long, firm timothy were to be taken in that afternoon.
Tommy took the pups from their yard soon after dinner and played with
them for some time. Happy, who was rested from her motherly cares, the
puppies now being weaned and quite independent, had taken up her old
hunting trips, and this afternoon had gone off with Waddles, Mr. Wolf,
Colin, Quick, and Tip after a vain effort to take the pups with her.
After a while Tommy, tired of play, lay down on the grass, and let the
pups crawl over him. Presently he heard the rumbling of heavy wheels,
and the great hay wagon carrying Baldy and a couple of extra hands went
out of the barnyard the back way.
“I’m coming for the last load ride,” called Tommy.
“You’d best be quick then; this’ll be it, and it’ll be a full one, for
Miss Letty and Miss Jule and Anne are all waiting up in the lot to get
aboard.”
“Wait, oh, wait a minute for me; it’s dreffle hot running so far,”
wailed Tommy. But Baldy did not hear because the wagon creaked so.
Tommy knew that he ought to put up the puppies, but they seemed to be
fast asleep, the wagon was already out of sight, he must go with his
sweetheart, for it was Miss Letty’s first ride on a load of hay--in
short, he turned and ran after the cart without looking back.
* * * * *
The children’s father often took photographs of birds and flowers to
illustrate the magazine articles and books that he wrote, and that
morning he had made a beautiful picture in the old mill glen of a
wood-duck just leaving its nest in a hollow tree with its young. It was
a very rare picture indeed, for these birds nest in deep woods, and he
could not have taken it except that a bright streak of sun chanced to
come through a gap and fell on the birds.
After dinner he had developed the negative very carefully in the dark
house, and then put it to wash in running water.
There was no faucet in the dark house, but there was one at the head
of the garden in a very shady place, and it was under this faucet that
the washing box was always set. This time, however, having but one
negative, it was left in a flat tray.
The children did not know about this wonderful picture, for if they had
even Tommy, anxious for a ride, would not have left the puppies to care
for themselves.
The twins awoke and finding everybody gone, set out on a tour of
investigation. If only a squirrel had scolded, or an apple fallen to
attract them, but no, on they went, playing and scampering toward the
garden. By this time they were thirsty, spied the running water, and
amused themselves for a while by lapping it as it flowed.
Then Jill stepped on the edge of the dish and tipped it up and the
glass negative fell out on the grass face upward. Sniffing at it, she
found the surface cool and something sticky on it that resisted. Of
course she began to lick and lick with extra persistency, stopping now
and then to cough and spit out the result, which, being gelatine that
had been washed in chemicals, including puckery alum, did not suit her
ladyship’s taste.
A rapid step came round the house; there was an exclamation of dismay,
for all that was left of the priceless duck picture was a small sheet
of smeared glass.
* * * * *
When Tommy came home from the hay-field he went to bed, and it was not
because he was tired.
Anne pleaded for him, but it was of no use. Her father was quite stern,
which was a rare thing.
“It is not the loss of the picture alone, it was because Tommy shirked
a responsibility, just as you did the other day. Only, as it happened,
by making a new apron you could undo your mischief, but Tommy cannot,
so he must stay by himself and think. And, moreover, if either of you
forget again, the twins must go and live at the Hilltop Kennels until
they also can be held responsible for what they do.”
At this dire threat Anne had to blink to keep back her tears, and the
worst of it was that Miss Jule and Miss Letty were coming to tea with
Hamlet and Tip, also Mr. Hugh, and it was a moonlight night, and Anne
and Tommy had expected to walk part way home with them.
* * * * *
Anne crept out to the dog nursery to see that all was safe and give
the pups their supper, resolving that if there were more accidents
it should be neither her fault nor Tommy’s; she would bear the
responsibility for both.
Happy had come home quite tired out and very muddy after her run, and
with a wild look in her eyes that was unusual for this staid parent.
She was lying on the floor flat as a pancake, while Jack, as if in
return for her care of him, licked her face gently. There was something
very beautiful in Jack’s love for his mother; he slept close by her at
night and had the most tender way with her; and once, when he was only
two months old and a strange dog came into the garden and accidentally
trod on Happy’s foot so that she cried, Jack rushed out, ridged up his
back hair for the very first time and flew at the stranger in real if
baby wrath.
Happy did not lie still long, but paced up and down and sniffed
eagerly, Jack watching her out of the corner of one eye.
[Illustration]
“It’s the hunting’s comin’ on her,” said Baldy, looking over Anne’s
shoulder as he came up with the milk pails. “She’s larnt them pups most
everythin’ but that, an’ some fine night she’ll get ’em out, no matter
how fast you’ve shet ’em, for it’s natur. When she’s had ’em out a few
times, then like as not she’ll be done with ’em and leave ’em to shift
and take to her own ways agin.
“Watch out when the moon’s bright and the dew’s heavy; rabbit hounds
most allus begins that time, for trailin’s dead easy, an’ you’ll _hear_
even if you don’t see nothin’.”
* * * * *
After supper Anne took the twins out to show them to Mr. Hugh, who was
a good judge of hunting dogs, and for the first time she noticed that
not only was Jack growing larger than Jill, whom Mr. Hugh pronounced
nearly perfect in the matter of points, but that he was of a different
shape. His legs were longer and he leaped along and did not drop his
body when he ran, as his mother and father did, so that the family name
of Waddles seemed inappropriate.
“Yes; he’s a trifle weedy for a beagle; he is really a typical
harrier hound,” said Mr. Hugh. “He gets that combination through his
grandfather, who was a foxhound, and one of the truest dogs in the
country.
[Illustration: _Jack._]
“You see, Mistress Anne, Jack’s grandmother was a handsome, wild,
headstrong young thing like Jill here, and she didn’t wait until her
family arranged a match for her with one of her own class, but eloped
with Squire Burley’s handsome hound, Meadowlark. Her family would not
forgive her at first or recognize her husband, and the poor thing had
a sad time of it; that is why your father was able to buy Waddles for
five dollars. But never mind, for if Jack has his grandfather’s long
legs he’ll make a good runner, and I think that he has his good temper
and cleverness as well--we always take Meadowlark out with Leonora and
Wildbrier when we are training the young hounds, for he keeps them
together and we seldom lose one, and that reminds me, we are going out
to-night for the first time this season. Later on, you shall go, for on
an autumn night there’s nothing like the music of hounds. Even with the
mixed pack we have, one or two from half a dozen farms, every man can
recognize the voice of his own dog.
“Where do we go to-night? Ah, this will be merely baby work; we lead
Squire Burley’s pet fox around the brush lots for a couple of miles
and then when he’s safely home and in bed, we put the youngsters and a
couple of steady old dogs on the trail; then, when they come back, we
give the babes something good to eat as a reward.
“Later we go out in earnest and follow the real trails on foot to
locate the dens for the autumn and winter clearing. It’s good work;
foxes are no joke to the farmers in the back country.”
“I’d love to go, that is, sometime when you aren’t killing the foxes.
They seem too much like dogs to kill them. Don’t you think Miss Letty
would like to go? I heard her ask Miss Jule the other day if she ‘rode
to hounds’ in the fall, and said that she had done it in England, but
Miss Jule said, ‘hereabouts some people ride and some run, for we shoot
our foxes, which is more to the point than letting the dogs tear them
to bits;’ but Miss Letty thought she wouldn’t care to run.”
“No; nor ride far either,” said Mr. Hugh, dryly.
* * * * *
Hamlet, whose hair was now about an inch long and neatly trimmed, was
quite a respectable citizen, and from having plenty of exercise and
dog companionship he had lost the nervous habit of shrieking when
he barked. He and Tip had formed a fast friendship with just a bit
of jealousy to bind it, for they both adored Miss Letty, Miss Jule
declaring that her own nose was out of joint, for Tip, who had always
slept on his mistress’s hearth rug, had transferred himself to the
hall by Miss Letty’s door where he lay nightly with his nose close to
the crack so as to get in the minute she awoke. Then, too, from being
a very independent individual, who came and went as he pleased, under
the coaxing of what Miss Jule called “Letty’s squash talk,” he learned
to fetch and carry and sit up in a queer, helpless way, holding her
slipper in his mouth with the most adoringly silly expression on his
face. He had to prop himself against something, it is true, for his
hind legs were not constructed for this position, but his intentions
were of the best.
After supper the family at Happy Hall laughed until they were weak at
his efforts, while poor Tommy, hearing the echo of their merriment,
sobbed bitterly all alone in his little white bed. Anne had not
forgotten him and instead of taking the moonlight walk that she so
loved, with her father and mother, part way home with the guests, she
called Waddles and slipped away upstairs to comfort Tommy, and tell him
the news that Miss Letty had a new sailor hat and a plain white gown
with no lace upon it that did not trail in the dirt, and yet that she
looked even prettier in it than in her “flower lady” dresses. Also that
she had put the cookies on his supper tray herself, and told Anne to
take him a kiss and tell him that sometimes very big men forgot things
that they ought to have done and did things they should be sorry for,
and that Mr. Hugh got very red in the face when she sent this message.
Then Tommy stopped sobbing, took interest in his untouched supper,
eating it cookie end first, while at that moment the baying of hounds
was heard toward the river woods and Waddles, hurrying downstairs
before Anne could catch him, pushed open the door and was off in full
cry.
* * * * *
[Illustration: “_Anne drew aside the curtain and looked out._”]
Anne must have been asleep some hours, though it only seemed a few
minutes, when she was wakened by an unusual sound and sat up to listen.
The moonlight was streaming into the room, and as she waited the clock
in the hall below chimed and struck two. Again the sound came, the
baying of one loud dog voice and two little bays. Anne drew aside the
curtain by her bed and looked out. Everything was either in white light
or black shadow. The cries came nearer, and four animals sped across
the open tennis court. Anne could plainly see a rabbit pursued by three
dogs.
“It’s Happy and the twins; she’s teaching them the hunting all of her
own accord when Mr. Hugh has to arrange it for the kennel dogs. Isn’t
it wonderful?” said Anne, aloud, presumedly to the moon as there was no
one else awake.
“But how did she get the twins out, I wonder? It’s one of Pinkie
Scott’s tame rabbits that live under her summer-house that they’re
after though, and it’s sure to get back among the stones, and they’ll
be disappointed. I must give them something to eat when they come back
as a reward, just as Mr. Hugh does the little foxhounds,” and thrusting
her feet into her moccasin slippers Anne stole lightly down the back
stairs.
How Happy got her pups out was an undiscovered secret until Baldy
found that the cooling house had a sort of switch-off burrow that led
backward under the stone fence, which the faithful mother could only
have made with infinite labour.
Anne opened the kitchen door by the well and stepped into the
moonlight, plate in hand. The baying and yelping had ceased, but she
could tell by the swishing of grass and bushes that the dogs were
returning. Soon they came in sight on the garden side; the twins seemed
tired and their heads drooped, while their mother encouraged first one
and then the other by little licks and caresses. Of course they were
both hungry and thirsty, and while the plate was being licked a window
above opened and Anne’s father looked out saying, “Anne! out in your
nightgown feeding puppies, or are you walking in your sleep?”
“Feeding the twins, father dear,” she called softly. “You see Happy has
been teaching them the hunting and as there wasn’t any catching, giving
them supper is a ‘must be.’ Mr. Hugh said so.”
Then the Winds of Night whispered wood messages in Diana’s ears and
drew her long hair through their fingers, and little Oo-oo, the
screech owl, laughed far off in the river woods, so that long after
she was asleep the sounds turned into dreams.
As to Waddles, he stayed out all night and was discovered tired and
muddy on the door-steps the next morning. When he was being brushed,
Anne asked him, “Why he had not helped Happy teach the pups?” He gave
her a reproachful look that said: “I’m surprised at you, mistress. I go
with the men dogs; teaching pups the hunting is woman’s work.”