CHARLEY SWALLOWS THE ROOSTER.
They went out into the road together, Flora clinging closely to the
dog's shaggy coat and talking pleasantly as they trotted along, side by
side.
"Do you live somewhere? I do. When I get there. Don't know the way. You
do, nice doggy. I like you. Are you all wet? I am. And cold? I am too.
Musn't cry if you are wet. I don't, and good dogs don't. Get home pretty
soon."
When she saw houses and the lights shining, she was rejoiced, for now
she would have supper, dry clothes and a warm bed. She fell on her new
friend's neck and embraced him again; but for him, she would not have
found the road. She might have wandered about all night in the cold and
rain. The dog started off with a purpose. There was no doubt in his mind
as to the best course. Finding a brisk trot unsuited to Flora's weak
condition, he toned down and trudged along steadily at a moderate pace
till he reached a shabby dwelling, with ricketty steps in front, that
creaked as he went up, and an old door that shook when he pressed his
nose against it. There was one small window through which the light of
the fire was dancing, and it looked very pleasant to Flora. The dog gave
a short, quick bark, and a woman appeared at the window; but no one
opened the door. Flora saw the woman very plainly, but she could not see
Flora. The dog waited patiently a moment, and then barked again, at the
same time scratching upon the door with his big paw. It opened this
time, and a sharp voice said: "Come in."
Doggy simply looked in and wagged his tail.
"Well, then, stay out."
The door was about to close when another voice said, "Old woman, the
brute is a-telling of us something. Can't you sense nothing?" and Flora
clambered up the steps as well as she could with her wet clothes hanging
about her, and went in with her new friend, who introduced her as a
young lady in distress he had taken the liberty to bring home.
"Well, I never!" exclaimed the woman Flora had seen at the window. "Did
you rain down?"
"I did," said Flora.
"And who do you belong to anyhow?"
"Belong to mamma, and I want to go home, if you please."
"Jack?"
"What is it, old woman?"
"I can't make it out. Come here."
Jack, who was in the pantry eating his supper, came in with his mouth
full. Flora knew him at once. It was Jack Midnight; but he did not
recognize her till she cried, "Oh, I am so glad!"
"Well, if it ain't the little miss!" said Jack. "Whatever have you been
a-doing?"
"What little miss?" queried the woman.
"Mr. Lee's little miss. She belongs to the white cottage."
"You don't say!"
"Appears like quality folks, don't she?"
"Set right up and dry yourself off a bit," said the woman, bustling
about to make Flora comfortable; "you are as wet as a drowned rat. Have
you had your supper?"
"No," said Flora. "Want to go now."
"Take a bite first," said Jack, offering a piece of his bread and
butter.
But Flora would not eat, and she would not sit by the fire; she stood
with her arms round the dog's neck, and waited for Jack to carry her to
mamma. When she refused the bread, Jack remembered that Towzer was
hungry and gave it to him; but it was a very light meal for Towzer, and
Flora whispered to him that he should have a whole supper when she got
to mamma: and her friend wagged his tail as if he should enjoy that very
much. When Jack got ready to go, the dog was ready too. Jack took the
poor child in his arms, and Towzer trotted by his side. There was quite
a pool of water where Flora had been standing, which had dripped from
her wet clothes.
"Well!" said Jack. "If you ain't a soppy bundle! Where _have_ you been?"
"Been to ride," said Flora. "In a blue cart with Mr. Podge."
"Run away?"
"No. Got lost."
"And Towzer found you."
"He did."
She reached over and patted Towzer's cold nose.
"He is a good dog. I like him."
Then out of gratitude to Jack, who was carrying her in his arms, she
added, "I like you too."
"You can sing more than one tune, can't you?" said Jack, laughing.
"Which do you like most now, me or Towzer?"
"Towzer, a little bit; because he _is_ a dog, you know, and you are a
boy."
"A bad boy."
"Not a bad boy."
Flora had suddenly changed her mind; and when Jack opened the big gate
and she had found her dear old home once more, she actually kissed his
grimy face and said she should "'member him long as she lived."
What a commotion he created by walking in, with Flora clinging to his
neck! Charley was the first to cry out, "There she is!" and everybody
flocked to hear all about it. But Flora crept into mamma's lap and had
not a word to say, and all that Jack knew was told in a few words.
"My dog picked her up somewhere and fetched her home," and then Flora
asked for Towzer, who had been shut out, and Charley went out and
invited him in. Inquiries had been made in all directions; but no one
could give any clue to Flora, and papa had gone to the town crier with a
"Lost" notice, describing the little girl and the dress she wore when
she left her home. Bertie was sent after him with all despatch, and Amy
ran over to relieve the anxious heart of Grandma. The little pet was
found, and she had been guided to a place of safety by Jack Midnight's
dog! They could not praise him enough. They had never noticed him
before, because he belonged to Jack; but now, both Jack and his dog were
in high favor.
Charley declared to Bertie, afterwards, that there was no longer a lump
in his throat. He had swallowed the rooster. While mamma was making her
little girl dry and warm, Towzer was being feasted in the kitchen, and
for the first time since he was a puppy he had what Flora called "a
whole supper." He was generally put off with a few scraps or a crust;
but to-night he had all that he could eat, and he was not bashful about
having his plate re-filled or backward in asking for more. Jack
protested against such a waste. There was "enough to victual him a
week," he said; "the brute never would know when he was full." But
Charley was determined to give him a chance to know, and at last he
poked over a dainty morsel with his cold nose, left it, went back to
it, left it again, unable to clear his plate.
"Lost his appetite," said Bertie; but Amy said he was a sensible dog and
left the last piece for manners' sake, which was probably true. After
his hearty meal, Towzer made himself at home, and laid down before the
fire with his shaggy head upon his paws, as if he had been used to high
living from puppyhood.