If you take a short-horned cow, a limping calf, a few sheep, a swarm of
fowls, a pig with a litter of eight, and an everyday lazy kind of horse,
you have John Dobbin’s well-stocked farm.
One morning John woke up at five, bustled round the hen coop, gave an
extra feed to the pigs, milked the cow, fed the limping calf, and then
went into the stables.
“Now, Sally, old girl,” he said, making some fuss as he fed his old
mare, “just keep your eye on things a bit. I’m goin’ round to Farmer
Peckett. He’s in bed, bad with rheumatism, an’ I shan’t be back afore
dinner.” So saying he took the halter from Sally’s neck, and let her
roam about at will.
Sally left to herself felt glumpy.
“Now where’s the master gone off this morning,” thought she. “Farmer
Peckett. I know no Farmer Peckett. It’s very queer his leaving us all
alone. Something might go wrong while he’s away, and he can see to
things a lot better than me. Just look! There’s that calf a limping
among the lettuces. And that knock-kneed hen with her chirrupy brood
scratching the carrots up as if she was seeking to-morrow. I do believe
those bees mean to swarm, and no master here. I’ve watched him swarm ’em
many a time, but I couldn’t manage it.”
[Illustration: _Hen with her Chirrupy Brood._]
“If you’re not off about your business, you old gimmer,” as a long-nosed
sheep looked through the hedge—“I’ll, I’ll— Now what do you want?”
called out Sally, turning from the patient ewe to a fat, wheezy donkey
coming up the garden path. “What brings you here this morning, Neddy?”
“He-haw!” said Neddy, rolling his tongue round and round, and giving a
three-cornered look out of his left eye. “Thought I’d just see how you
were getting on, Sal! But you do look prime.”
“Just be off about your business.”
“Beg your pardon, my lady. But if you have no objections I’ll just march
myself off into the stable. I know Farmer Dobbin supplies you with good
fodder.” And away went Neddy “he-hawing” for all he was worth, and
frightening the chicks out of their poor little senses.
While Sally was looking after him, and marvelling at his cool
impertinence, up came a tinker. “Pans to mend, kettles to mend, scraps
of old iron,” he cried.
“What, Sally!” he called out cheerfully to her.
“He-haw!” bellowed Neddy.
“Where’s John Dobbin? Are ye carryin’ on the farm by yourself, Sally?
Well, you’re a fine steed to place in front of any man’s castle! I’ll
speak a word for ye when I see the general again. He’s sure to be
wanting a new charger to carry him off to the wars soon. But I see
you’re figgity, Sally, so I’ll bid you good-day. Pans to mend! Kettles
to mend! Scraps of old iron!”
“Mercy on us!” wailed the frightened creature, the perspiration dropping
from her nose end. “How thankful I am to think he’s gone! If he’d walked
into the kitchen, and master out, he’d have smoked up all his new baccy.
When will it be twelve o’clock? Oh, but I don’t like looking after
things. I will be glad when master comes home.” Because she felt
relieved of anxiety a warm feeling spread all over Sally, and her poor
old heart felt happy. Even Neddy’s ugly “he-hawing” failed to rouse her
ire. So she fell to trotting about the garden in a silly kind of way.
While Sally was frisking about in a happy-go-lucky fashion, up came a
sailor.
“Morning,” he said, “fine time o’ year this.”
Sally looked sad.
[Illustration]
“No one at home, eh? Where’s John Dobbin? Hasn’t left any message, eh!
Stand out of the way and I’ll go into the house, and sit down till John
comes. Bravo! my beauty,” stroking the limping calf, “you’re a fine
mixed lot of customers I can see. Master John will be at the market I’ll
be bound. It’s twenty year since John and me met. Won’t we have a fine
time of it now. I hear he’s never married, n’more have I. Wait till he
comes in, we’ll be spinning yarns till bed-time.”
All this time Sally was pawing at the cobbles with her hoof. “Well,
you’re a cool hand to be sure,” thought she. “And he’s helping himself
to my master’s baccy. Well, if that doesn’t beat all. I’ve got him in
the kitchen at any rate, and if he isn’t quite quiet, he looks honest.
I’d best be off and see how Neddy’s getting on, for he’s a first-class
scamp if you like.” And away she trotted, seeing on the road that the
bees were hard at work, for you will understand how this lazy old horse
was most particular that everyone else but herself should be working.
She did not like to see anything idle. If you notice, animals that have
lived a long time with people learn to know their ways. And it may sound
funny to you children, but I have often seen animals try and imitate
their owners. So if any of you have a pet you must be careful and behave
kindly before it, for then, at least, you will be setting a good
example. And I would advise you to have nothing to do with a boy whose
dog fears him, or with a girl who is not kind to her dollies.
“Now, where is Neddy?” said the weary mare, “for not a speck of him can
I find. There’s every bit of fodder munched up—rakes and spades kicked
about—yes, he’s been here sure enough. And there’s the brand new bucket
stamped on. Whatever will Master say? This is keeping an eye on things
till master comes back, isn’t it! Oh! dear me. I’ve got a run-a-gate
donkey somewhere and a Jack Tar in the kitchen smoking my master’s
baccy.”
“Bow-wow-wow!”
“What’s the matter now?” As Sally turned round she saw a sheep dog. “Oh?
Ben, it’s you,” she cried. “I’m nearly worried out of my wits. For
goodness’ sake do stop here, Ben, and keep guard till master comes back.
There’s the bow-legged toppin’d hen wants keeping in her place, and that
limping calf ought to be tethered. And Neddy ought to be sent home
instead of stamping the fodder about and kicking the new bucket,
and—there’s that sailor chap in the kitchen smoking my master’s baccy!
Mercy on us! what’s that?” as a band struck up a gay tune. “It’s a
travelling circus—no, it isn’t. My word, the whole village is up and our
sailor gentleman is dancing a hornpipe! Thank goodness—there’s master
coming! Whoever would have thought of things happening like this!”
“What cheer, John!” cried the sailor, extending his hand and running
forward to meet his old friend. “How are ye, my hearty? What, don’t you
know me, John? My old chum! Why, I’m Sam—surely!”
“It can’t be, but it is!” and the farmer’s voice became husky. “I’ve
thought ye dead this many a year. So you’ve actually returned, Sammy!”
“To settle in the old country, and to pitch my tent alongside o’ yours,
John.”
“Look here, you sailor man,” cried Sally, “master belongs to me. We run
this farm between us, we do, and we want no hornpipy sailor to join us.”
“And where does this band come from?” asked the farmer. The musicians,
let me say, were trumpeting and drumming for all they were worth.
“Well, I brought it with me from Jarmouth. Look here, my hearties,” he
called out, “change the tune to ‘Auld lang Syne’ and we will all join in
the chorus.”
Which everybody did. Even Neddy sat on his haunches and “he-hawed” his
loudest, of course, lolling his tongue round as usual, and throwing
three-cornered glances in all directions. The limping calf was touched
and was suddenly seized with a racing fit; and the chickens, no doubt
thinking that the end of the world had come, turned somersaults and
fought battles in all directions.
Poor Sally groaned aloud. “Ah! this is the end of everything,” she said.
“I’ve cared for, and worked for master for many a year, and now what
between the sailor, the band, the chickens, the bees and Neddy—well!”
[Illustration]
“I think the whole stock has taken leave of their senses,” said Farmer
John. “Why, Sally, lass,” he said, looking upon his woe-begone horse,
and patting her on the shoulder, “do you think, old girl, that I have
forgotten thee? No, no! Now, my good people,” flinging a coin to the
musicians, “I thank you for your music, and good-day to ye. Don’t you
see that you are frightening my animals. Neighbours,” he cried,
addressing the crowd, “good-day to ye also, and Sam, my man—quick march
into the house. Adieu!” he cried to the departing crowd. “This sort of
thing don’t quite suit country folk—now do it, Sally?”
And as he led the horse by the halter he whispered in her ear: “Now you
needn’t go and be jealous, old girl. Sam shan’t put your nose out.
You’ve been a good old servant to me, and you’re missis here, so keep
your temper.”
Sally stamped her feet.
“He says he’s come to retire with you, master,” she began, only John had
walked away. “And oh!” winnied Sally, only John did not hear her, “after
I’ve been missis ever so long, it’s hard to be supplanted by a hornpipy
sailor!”