SNIP INTRUDES.
"I'VE accepted an invitation for you, children," Mrs. Glanville said
to Kitty and Bob during the dinner hour on the Monday following the
athletic sports. "Tim came in this morning and asked my permission for
you to take tea with him next Saturday afternoon."
"How nice!" exclaimed Kitty. "Of course, his uncle told him to ask us,
mother?"
"Yes," Mrs. Glanville assented. "He brought a polite message from Mr.
Shuttleworth."
"I rather wanted to play cricket on Saturday afternoon," said Bob, who
was not so elated at the prospect of spending an hour or so next door
as his sister. "But I suppose if you accepted the invitation, mother,
we must go."
"Of course we must go," interposed Kitty. "Oh, please Bob, don't try to
back out of going."
"I won't," Bob answered, laughing. "Come outdoors, Kitty; I've
something to say to you privately," he added in a lower tone.
"I say, Kitty," Bob commenced, when the garden was reached, "do you
know I'm beginning to think Fluffy may have come from Tim Shuttleworth,
after all, and I'll tell you why I think so. When I got home from
school half an hour ago, I thought I'd come in by the back door, and
there, standing watching your rabbit, was the butcher boy—he delivers
meat at Mr. Shuttleworth's too, it seems."
"Yes, he's been with Mudge, the butcher, for a long while," remarked
Kitty. "His name's Dick Dart, and his mother's a widow who takes in
washing—I've heard him tell cook so. Last year he received nearly five
pounds in Christmas-boxes, and he's going to save his money to start
for himself."
"Oh, never mind that," broke in Bob, who was not interested in the
ambitions of the butcher boy, like his sister, whose nature it was to
concern herself in other people's business. "But listen to me. There
was the fellow watching your rabbit, as I said before."
"'That rabbit is getting as fat as butter,' he said, 'and its coat
improves every day. Old Dottin would hardly know it.' I stared at that.
'Isn't it one of old Jacob Dottin's?' he went on, seeing, I suppose,
that I was very surprised. 'I don't know,' I answered, 'someone made
a present of it to my sister.' He laughed and winked. 'I understand,'
he said, it's a secret who that someone is, but I expect it's the same
person I recommended to go to old Dottin when he asked me if I knew
anyone who had rabbits to sell.' 'Who was that?' I inquired. He's an
aggravating boy, Kitty, he wouldn't tell me; but putting two and two
together I think he may have meant Tim Shuttleworth, for Tim knows
Jacob Dottin."
"Why, of course he does!" cried Kitty, excitedly. "He promised to
take us to see the old man's animals and birds; we must remind him of
that—no, we won't, though! I'll tell you what, Bob, you and I will
go and see Jacob Dottin without Tim, and find out if he ever sold
Tim a rabbit. I feel I shall never rest till I know, for certain,
where Fluffy came from. If we learnt our lessons in the dinner hour
to-morrow, couldn't we go to the old man's shop in the evening? I don't
suppose he closes it very early."
It was easy for Kitty and Boy to slip off quietly the following
evening, for Tim did not seek their society, believing they would be
engaged in the preparation of their lessons for the next day, and Mr.
and Mrs. Glanville were out, having gone to call on some friends. But
one pair of sharp eyes kept watch on their movements, and they had not
gone far from home before they became aware that Snip was following.
The little dog appeared to know instinctively that they did not wish
him to accompany them, for he persistently lurked behind only just
keeping his mistress and master in sight.
When Kitty and Bob looked behind, he dawdled, pretending not to see
them, as though he was taking a walk on his own account; but the minute
they turned their heads, he hastened after them again. When Jacob
Dottin's shop was reached Snip was just turning the corner of the
street. So Bob opened the shop door quickly, and, pushing his sister in
before him, entered himself, and shut the door behind him.
"What can I do for the pretty little lady?" Mr. Dottin proceeded
to inquire amiably. "Sell her a singing bird, eh? I've a wonderful
collection of canaries, varying in price from five to fifteen
shillings. There's one now—a young one—singing as though he'd split his
throat. Too noisy? Well, well, that's a matter of taste, of course.
There's another whose song is not quite so shrill."
"I don't want to buy a canary, thank you." Kitty returned politely.
"Then what do you think of these love-birds, missie? You shall have the
pair cheap."
"The fact is we don't want to buy anything to-night," said Bob frankly.
"But we wish to ask you a few questions, if you'll be so good as to
answer them."
"Indeed?" The old man's smiling countenance changed somewhat. "And
suppose I decline to answer your questions, what then?" he inquired.
"Then we shall be as wise as we are now, no wiser," Bob said, with
a laugh. "Oh, I say, Kitty, look at those white rabbits," he cried,
turning to his sister, who followed the direction of his pointing
finger. "They're just like your Fluffy."
"Yes," agreed Kitty, "so they are. But their coats are not so well
kept as Fluffy's is now. I suppose you haven't time to comb them?" she
questioned of Mr. Dottin.
"They're Angoras," he remarked. "No, missie, I haven't time to comb
them. Have you a fancy for rabbits?"
"I love them," the little girl declared. "Not to eat, I don't mean
that, but as pets, you know. I've a sweet little white rabbit called
Fluffy, and it's exactly like those of yours."
"What we want to know is whether you sold a young Angora rabbit to a
boy called Tim Shuttleworth," broke in Bob, coming abruptly to the real
business of their visit.
"Tim Shuttleworth?" repeated Mr. Dottin. "I never, as far as I can
remember, heard that name before!"
"You might not know the name, but you might know the boy," said Bob
eagerly. "A boy about my height, but thinner, and about my age, with
red hair, a turn up nose, a wide mouth, and a freckled face."
"A very plain boy, perhaps you'd call him ugly," supplemented Kitty.
A gleam of comprehension flitted across the old man's countenance, but
it passed instantly, and his answer was evasive and disappointing. "I
have several customers answering to the description you have given
me of—your friend, is he?" he said, gravely. "Plain people are more
plentiful than handsome ones, you know. When folks do business with
me I don't take much notice of their looks. Why are you so anxious to
discover if this Tim Shuttleworth has purchased a rabbit from me? Come
now, tell me that."
The children were quite willing to do so, and Kitty commenced a
rambling account of all that had led to their visit, beginning with
the sudden demise of her first rabbit, and going on to explain the
mysterious advent of Fluffy; but before she had brought her story to
an end, the shop door opened and a customer came in with a request
to be supplied with a particular mixture of bird seed, for which Mr.
Dottin was, as a ticket in the window informed passers-by, the agent.
Neither Kitty nor Bob noticed that Snip entered close on the heels of
the customer, and the little dog, fearful that he would be seen and
summarily ejected, stole silently into a corner, and hid behind a box.
All would have gone well if Snip had remained in his corner. But as
soon as the customer had gone and Mr. Dottin again turned his attention
to the children, Snip crept from behind the box, and sniffing the
ground as he went, with a puzzled expression on his sharp little
face, as though his sensitive nostrils had scented a smell he did not
understand, as indeed was the case, he stealthily passed into the
parlour beyond.
A few minutes later a series of barks—sharp and aggressive—broke
upon the ears of the trio in the shop; and Kitty, who was concluding
her tale, stopped suddenly, and exchanged a dismayed glance with her
brother.
"That's our dog," Bob explained to Mr. Dottin. "I know his voice. We
shut him out, but—"
The boy broke off. He was given no chance of finishing his
sentence; for at that instant the air was rent by a great
disturbance—blood-curdling yells, snaps, snarls, and guttural growls
which sounded, as Kitty afterwards declared, worse than the most awful
dog-fight she had ever heard. Then followed such piteous howls from
Snip that the little girl wrung her hands in terror, and Mr. Dottin,
seizing a large stick, rushed into the parlour in front of Bob, whose
face was as white as death.
"Oh, Snip! He's been caught by something!" shrieked the boy. "Oh!"
starting back. "How terrible! What a brute!"
"What is it? What is it?" cried Kitty, shocked beyond measure. "Oh,
Snip, poor Snip! He's being killed, Bob! I can see it by your face!"