BILLY'S TRAINING CONTINUED
When Billy was five months old, he had his first walk in the street.
Miss Laura knew that he had been well trained, so she did not hesitate
to take him into the town. She was not the kind of a young lady to go
into the street with a dog that would not behave himself, and she was
never willing to attract attention to herself by calling out orders to
any of her pets.
As soon as we got down the front steps, she said, quietly to Billy, "To
heel." It was very hard for little, playful Billy to keep close to her,
when he saw so many new and wonderful things about him. He had gotten
acquainted with everything in the house and garden, but this outside
world was full of things he wanted to look at and smell of, and he was
fairly crazy to play with some of the pretty dogs he saw running about.
But he did just as he was told.
Soon we came to a shop, and Miss Laura went in to buy some ribbons. She
said to me, "Stay out," but Billy she took in with her. I watched them
through the glass door, and saw her go to a counter and sit down. Billy
stood behind her till she said, "Lie down." Then he curled himself at
her feet.
He lay quietly, even when she left him and went to another counter. But
he eyed her very anxiously till she came back and said, "Up," to him.
Then he sprang up and followed her out to the street.
She stood in the shop door, and looked lovingly down on us as we fawned
on her. "Good dogs," she said, softly; "you shall have a present." We
went behind her again, and she took us to a shop where we both lay
beside the counter. When we heard her ask the clerk for solid rubber
balls, we could scarcely keep still. We both knew what "ball" meant.
Taking the parcel in her hand, she came out into the street. She did not
do any more shopping, but turned her face toward the sea. She was going
to give us a nice walk along the beach, although it was a dark,
disagreeable, cloudy day, when most young ladies would have stayed in
the house. The Morris children never minded the weather. Even in the
pouring rain, the boys would put on rubber boots and coats and go out to
play. Miss Laura walked along, the high wind blowing her cloak and dress
about, and when we got past the houses, she had a little run with us.
We jumped, and frisked, and barked, till we were tired; and then we
walked quietly along.
A little distance ahead of us were some boys throwing sticks in the
water for two Newfoundland dogs. Suddenly a quarrel sprang up between
the dogs. They were both powerful creatures, and fairly matched as
regarded size. It was terrible to hear their fierce growling, and to see
the way in which they tore at each other's throats. I looked at Miss
Laura. If she had said a word, I would have run in and helped the dog
that was getting the worst of it. But she told me to keep back, and ran
on herself.
The boys were throwing water on the dogs, and pulling their tails, and
hurling stones at them, but they could not separate them. Their heads
seemed locked together, and they went back and forth over the stones,
the boys crowding around them, shouting, and beating, and kicking at
them.
"Stand back, boys," said Miss Laura; "I'll stop them." She pulled a
little parcel from her purse, bent over the dogs, scattered a powder on
their noses, and the next instant the dogs were yards apart, nearly
sneezing their heads off.
"I say, Missis, what did you do? What's that stuff? Whew, it's pepper!"
the boys exclaimed.
Miss Laura sat down on a flat rock, and looked at them with a very pale
face. "Oh, boys," she said, "why did you make those dogs fight? It is so
cruel. They were playing happily till you set them on each other. Just
see how they have torn their handsome coats, and how the blood is
dripping from them."
"'Taint my fault," said one of the lads, sullenly. "Jim Jones there said
his dog could lick my dog, and I said he couldn't--and he couldn't,
neither.
"Yes, he could," cried the other boy; "and if you say he couldn't, I'll
smash your head."
The two boys began sidling up to each other with clenched fists, and a
third boy, who had a mischievous face, seized the paper that had had the
pepper in it, and running up to them shook it in their faces.
There was enough left to put all thoughts of fighting out of their
heads. They began to cough, and choke, and splutter, and finally found
themselves beside the dogs, where the four of them had a lively time.
The other boys yelled with delight, and pointed their fingers at them,
"A sneezing concert. Thank you, gentlemen. 'Angcore, angcore'!"
Miss Laura laughed too, she could not help it, and even Billy and I
curled up our lips. After a while they sobered down, and then finding
that the boys hadn't a handkerchief between them, Miss Laura took her
own soft one, and dipping it in a spring of fresh water near by, wiped
the red eyes of the sneezers.
Their ill humor had gone, and when she turned to leave them, and said,
coaxingly, "You won't make those dogs fight any more, will you?" they
said, "No, sirree, Bob."
Miss Laura went slowly home, and ever afterward when she met any of
those boys, they called her "Miss Pepper."
When we got home we found Willie curled up by the window in the hall,
reading a book. He was too fond of reading, and his mother often told
him to put away his book and run about with the other boys. This
afternoon Miss Laura laid her hand on his shoulder and said, "I was
going to give the dogs a little game of ball, but I'm rather tired."
"Gammon and spinach," he replied, shaking off her hand, "you're always
tired."
She sat down in a hall chair and looked at him. Then she began to tell
him about the dog fight. He was much interested, and the book slipped to
the floor. When she finished he said, "You're a daisy every day. Go now
and rest yourself." Then snatching the balls from her, he called us and
ran down to the basement. But he was not quick enough though to escape
her arm. She caught him to her and kissed him repeatedly. He was the
baby and pet of the family, and he loved her dearly, though he spoke
impatiently to her oftener than either of the other boys.
We had a grand game with Willie. Miss Laura had trained us to do all
kinds of things with balls--jumping for them, playing hide-and-seek, and
catching them.
Billy could do more things than I could. One thing he did which I
thought was very clever. He played ball by himself. He was so crazy
about ball play that he could never get enough of it.
Miss Laura played all she could with him, but she had to help her mother
with the sewing and the housework, and do lessons with her father, for
she was only seventeen years old, and had not left off studying. So
Billy would take his ball and go off by himself. Sometimes he rolled it
over the floor, and sometimes he threw it in the air and pushed it
through the staircase railings to the hall below. He always listened
till he heard it drop, then he ran down and brought it back and pushed
it through again. He did this till he was tired, and then he brought the
ball and laid it at Miss Laura's feet.
We both had been taught a number of tricks. We could sneeze and cough,
and be dead dogs, and say our prayers, and stand on our heads, and mount
a ladder and say the alphabet,--this was the hardest of all, and it took
Miss Laura a long time to teach us. We never began till a book was laid
before us. Then we stared at it, and Miss Laura said, "Begin, Joe and
Billy--say A."
For A, we gave a little squeal. B was louder. C was louder still. We
barked for some letters, and growled for others. We always turned a
summersault for S. When we got to Z, we gave the book a push and had a
frolic around the room.
When any one came in, and Miss Laura had us show off any of our tricks,
the remark always was, "What clever dogs. They are not like other dogs."
That was a mistake. Billy and I were not any brighter than many a
miserable cur that skulked about the streets of Fairport. It was
kindness and patience that did it all. When I was with Jenkins he
thought I was a very stupid dog. He would have laughed at the idea of
any one teaching me anything. But I was only sullen and obstinate,
because I was kicked about so much. If he had been kind to me, I would
have done anything for him.
I loved to wait on Miss Laura and Mrs. Morris, and they taught both
Billy and me to make ourselves useful about the house. Mrs. Morris
didn't like going up and down the three long staircases, and sometimes
we just raced up and down, waiting on her.
How often I have heard her go into the hall and say, "Please send me
down a clean duster, Laura. Joe, you get it." I would run gayly up the
steps, and then would come Billy's turn. "Billy, I have forgotten my
keys. Go get them."
After a time we began to know the names of different articles, and where
they were kept, and could get them ourselves. On sweeping days we worked
very hard, and enjoyed the fun. If Mrs. Morris was too far away to call
to Mary for what she wanted, she wrote the name on a piece of paper, and
told us to take it to her.
Billy always took the letters from the postman, and carried the morning
paper up to Mr. Morris's study, and I always put away the clean clothes.
After they were mended, Mrs. Morris folded each article and gave it to
me, mentioning the name of the owner, so that I could lay it on his bed.
There was no need for her to tell me the names. I knew by the smell. All
human beings have a strong smell to a dog, even though they mayn't
notice it themselves. Mrs. Morris never knew how she bothered me by
giving away Miss Laura's clothes to poor people. Once, I followed her
track all through the town, and at last found it was only a pair of her
boots on a ragged child in the gutter.
I must say a word about Billy's tail before I close this chapter. It is
the custom to cut the ends of fox terrier's tails, but leave their ears
untouched. Billy came to Miss Laura so young that his tail had not been
cut off, and she would not have it done.
One day Mr. Robinson came in to see him, and he said, "You have made a
fine-looking dog of him, but his appearance is ruined by the length of
his tail."
"Mr. Robinson," said Mrs. Morris, patting little Billy, who lay on her
lap, "don't you think that this little dog has a beautifully
proportioned body?"
"Yes, I do," said the gentleman. "His points are all correct, save that
one."
"But," she said, "if our Creator made that beautiful little body, don't
you think he is wise enough to know what length of tail would be in
proportion to it?"
Mr. Robinson would not answer her. He only laughed and said that he
thought she and Miss Laura were both "cranks."
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