BOB LAID UP
HAPPILY Stray proved not to be seriously hurt, and in a few days
his wound was healing nicely. Jackie, though he had seen the stone
thrown, could only give a very hazy description of the thrower, who,
it seemed, had run away the instant he had seen he had hit the dog.
Bob would have gone to Tom Smith in hot haste and accused him
of having done the cruel deed, but Mrs. Winter had prevented
his doing so, by pointing out that they had no proof that Tom was
the culprit.
Bob felt sure that Tom Smith was the stone-thrower nevertheless.
He did not see him again till after the school holidays, when,
one morning on his way to school, he passed him in the street.
"What about that dog of yours now?" Tom shouted after him with a
jeering laugh, thus showing that Bob had not misjudged him.
Bob wheeled around sharply, his heart hot with indignation; and went
back, his eyes ablaze with anger.
"Look here," he said, "I want a word with you. The dog's not mine,
he belongs to one of my aunt's lodgers—but that doesn't matter
to you. What I've got to say is this, if you ever throw a stone
at him again, I'll go to the police about you and get you punished."
"Do you think I'm afraid of the police?" sneered Tom.
"Yes, I do," Bob answered. "I saw you slink away the other night—
you were bullying a boy younger than yourself—when you saw
a policeman coming. There's a law to stop people who are cruel
to dumb animals. I've heard about it from my father, who can't bear
to see animals of any kind badly treated. You're a big coward,
Tom Smith, that's what you are!"
"Take care what you say!" shouted Tom, turning crimson. "You're a
cheeky youngster! As for your father, he's only a common Tommy!"
"A common Tommy!" echoed Bob, adding quickly, "Anyway, he's a brave
man, and he wouldn't hurt a poor dog like you did."
"If you're not careful what you say, I'll give you something
you won't like!" Tom threatened.
"You'd better not!" Bob retorted.
And Tom decided that he had better not, for after looking at Bob
uncertainly for a minute, he muttered something under his breath,
turned sharply on his heel, and moved on.
"I don't think he'll dare do any harm to Stray again," thought Bob;
"he saw I meant it when I said I'd go to the police about him."
Mrs. Mead had forgiven Bob by this time for the loss of her apples,
and was using him as an errand boy out of school hours as she had
done before. Sometimes when he went to bed he was so weary and his
limbs ached so much that he could not; get to sleep till the early
hours of the morning, and this began to tell on his health. Then,
at the end of October, he caught a bad cold on the chest and had to
be in bed several days.
During those days it was Mrs. Winter who nursed him. Lizzie brought
him his food, and Mrs. Mead came to see how he was night and morning;
but it was his kind old neighbour who poulticed his chest, and gave
him his cough mixture regularly, and sat with him whilst his little
brother was at school, telling him stories, or talking to him of her
young days and the children she had had in her care.
"I loved them all," she said, as she was keeping him company
one afternoon, "but not one quite so well as Miss Peggy. The little
dear was an orphan, just three years old, when I went to be her
nurse, and her aunt, who was her guardian, left her entirely to my
care. It was I who taught her to love Jesus—to know Him as her
Saviour Who died for her. Ah, she loved Him and trusted Him with all
her heart, did Miss Peggy! 'I feel He's near me, Nana!' she used
to say."
"It's a great thing to feel that," Bob remarked thoughtfully, adding,
"Jackie is not half so afraid of the dark now you've made him
understand that Jesus is there."
"Bless his dear little heart, no!" Mrs. Winter agreed, with her
sunniest smile.
Bob was struck by the brightness of her expression. "I think you're
the happiest person I ever knew," he said; "you're so cheerful that
it does one good to be with you. Mrs. Winter, I should like to ask
you a question—if you won't be offended?"
"Oh, I am sure I shall not be offended!"
"Then—are you very poor?"
"Yes, as far as money goes, and poorer I shall be if food continues
to rise in price. But God will provide for me, my dear, don't you
fear! See how He's providing for Stray now! I was wondering how I
should be able to get food for the dog that day your aunt promised
to save the scraps of the house for him. Don't you think God put that
kind thought into her heart? I do!"
Stray was generally with his mistress when she visited Bob. He was
to-day, lying on the shabby strip of carpet by the bedside. He looked
up and wagged his tail every time his name was mentioned. Mrs. Winter
stooped and patted him.
"He misses his walks with you, Bob," she said; "I don't take him far
enough to satisfy him. I tell you what I think I'll do this afternoon
as the weather's fine and sunny. I'll meet Jackie as he comes out of
school, and take Stray with me."
"Oh, I wish you would!" Bob cried eagerly. "Jackie didn't come
straight home yesterday, and I couldn't think what had become of him.
I made up my mind he had met with some accident—been knocked down by
a motor-car, perhaps, and killed! He had only been playing with other
little boys he told me, and he promised he'd come straight home
to-day; but it would be kind of you to meet him."
"Oh, I will!" Mrs. Winter broke in. "I'll take him for a little walk;
but we won't be long."
"Oh, I shall know he's all right if he's with you," Bob replied.
"Aunt Martha says I'm silly to be nervous about him, and I daresay
I am; but almost the last words father said to me were, 'Look after
Jackie, Bob!' and I don't think I could face father again if anything
happened to him. It's nearly four o'clock, isn't it, Mrs. Winter?"
"It's twenty to four," she answered, rising. "I'll go at once. Come,
Stray!"
The dog followed her from the room. A few minutes later Bob heard him
scamper down the stairs, barking excitedly, and his mistress trying
to quieten him.
"They'll be in time," the boy said to himself; "what Jackie and I'd
do without Mrs. Winter now I really don't know!"