It's queer that girls are so dreadfully afraid of rats and mice. Men are
never afraid of them, and I shouldn't mind if there were mornamillion
mice in my bedroom every night.
Mr. Travers told Sue and me a terrible story one day about a woman that
was walking through a lonely field, when she suddenly saw a field-mouse
right in front of her. She was a brave woman; so after she had said, "Oh
my! save me, somebody!" she determined to save herself if she could, for
there was nobody within miles of her. There was a tree not very far off,
and she had just time to climb up the tree and seat herself in the
branches, when the mouse reached its foot. There that animal stayed for
six days and nights, squeaking in a way that made the woman's blood run
cold, and waiting for her to come down. On the seventh day, when she was
nearly exhausted, a man with a gun came along, and shot the mouse, and
saved her life. I don't believe this story, and I told Mr. Travers so;
for a woman couldn't climb a tree, and even if she could, what would
hinder the mouse from climbing after her?
Sue has a new young man, who comes every Monday and Wednesday night. One
day he said, "Jimmy, if you'll get me a lock of your sister's hair, I'll
give you a nice dog." I told him he was awfully kind, but I didn't think
it would be honest for me to take Sue's best hair, but that I'd try to
get him some of her every-day hair. And he said, "What on earth do you
mean, Jimmy?" And I said that Sue had got some new back hair a little
while ago, for I was with her when she bought it, and I knew she
wouldn't like me to take any of that. So he said it was no matter, and
he'd give me the dog anyway.
I told Sue afterwards all about it, just to show her how honest I was,
and instead of telling me I was a good boy, she said, "Oh you little
torment g'way and never let me see you again," and threw herself down on
the sofa and howled dreadfully, and mother came and said, "Jimmy, if you
want to kill your dear sister, you can just keep on doing as you do."
Such is the gratitude of grown-up folks.
Mr. Withers--that's the new young man--brought the dog, as he said he
would. He's a beautiful Scotch terrier, and he said he would kill rats
like anything, and was two years old, and had had the distemper; that
is, Mr. Withers said the dog would kill rats, and of course Mr.
Withers himself never had the distemper.
Of course I wanted to see the dog kill rats, so I took him to a rat-hole
in the kitchen, but he barked at it so loud that no rat would think of
coming out. If you want to catch rats, you mustn't begin by barking and
scratching at rat-holes, but you must sit down and kind of wink with one
eye and lay for them, just as cats do. I told Mr. Withers that the dog
couldn't catch any rats, and he said he would bring me some in a box,
and I could let them out, and the dog would kill every single one of
them.
The next evening Sue sent me down to the milliner's to bring her new
bonnet home, and don't you be long about it either you idle worthless
boy. Well, I went to the milliner's shop, but the bonnet wasn't done
yet; and as I passed Mr. Withers's office, he said, "Come here, Jimmy;
I've got those rats for you." He gave me a wooden box like a tea-chest,
and told me there were a dozen rats in it, and I'd better have the dog
kill them at once, or else they'd gnaw out before morning.
When I got home, Sue met me at the door, and said, "Give me that bandbox
this instant you've been mornanour about it." I tried to tell her that
it wasn't her box; but she wouldn't listen, and just snatched it and
went into the parlor, where there were three other young ladies who had
come to see her, and slammed the door; but the dog slipped in with her.
In about a minute I heard the most awful yells that anybody ever heard.
It sounded as if all the furniture in the parlor was being smashed into
kindling wood, and the dog kept barking like mad. The next minute a girl
came flying out of the front window, and another girl jumped right on
her before she had time to get out of the way, and they never stopped
crying, "Help murder let me out oh my!"
[Illustration: SUE HAD OPENED THE BOX.]
I knew, of course, that Sue had opened the box and let the rats out, and
though I wanted ever so much to know if the dog had killed them all, I
thought she would like it better if I went back to the milliner's and
waited a few hours for the bonnet.
I brought it home about nine o'clock; but Sue had gone to bed, and the
servant had just swept up the parlor, and piled the pieces of furniture
on the piazza. Father won't be home till next week, and perhaps by that
time Sue will get over it. I wish I did know if the dog killed all those
rats, and how long it took him.