Beautiful Joe, Marshall Saunders [historical books to read .TXT] 📗

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."

 

 

 

 

 

       *       *       *       *       *

 

CHAPTER XI (GOLDFISH AND CANARIES)

 

The Morris boys were all different. Jack was bright and clever, Ned was

a wag, Willie was a book-worm, and Carl was a born trader.

 

He was always exchanging toys and books with his schoolmates, and they

never got the better of him in a bargain. He said that when he grew up

he was going to be a merchant, and he had already begun to carry on a

trade in canaries and goldfish. He was very fond of what he called "his

yellow pets," yet he never kept a pair of birds or a goldfish, if he had

a good offer for them.

 

He slept alone in a large, sunny room at the top of the house. By his

own request, it was barely furnished, and there he raised his canaries

and kept his goldfish.

 

He was not fond of having visitors coming to his room, because, he said,

they frightened the canaries. After Mrs. Morris made his bed in the

morning, the door was closed, and no one was supposed to go in till he

came from school. Once Billy and I followed him upstairs without his

knowing it, but as soon as he saw us he sent us down in a great hurry.

 

One day Bella walked into his room to inspect the canaries. She was

quite a spoiled bird by this time, and I heard Carl telling the family

afterward that it was as good as a play to see Miss Bella strutting in

with her breast stuck out, and her little, conceited air, and hear her

say, shrilly, "Good morning, birds, good morning! How do you do, Carl?

Glad to see you, boy."

 

"Well, I'm not glad to see you," he said, decidedly, "and don't you ever

come up here again. You'd frighten my canaries to death." And he sent

her flying downstairs.

 

How cross she was! She came shrieking to Miss Laura. "Bella loves birds.

Bella wouldn't hurt birds. Carl's a bad boy."

 

Miss Laura petted and soothed her, telling her to go find Davy, and he

would play with her. Bella and the rat were great friends. It was very

funny to see them going about the house together. From the very first

she had liked him, and coaxed him into her cage, where he soon became

quite at home,--so much so that he always slept there. About nine

o'clock every evening, if he was not with her, she went all over the

house, crying: "Davy! Davy! time to go to bed. Come sleep in Bella's

cage."

 

He was very fond of the nice sweet cakes she got to eat, but she never

could get him to eat coffee grounds--the food she liked best.

 

Miss Laura spoke to Carl about Bella, and told him he had hurt her

feelings, so he petted her a little to make up for it. Then his mother

told him that she thought he was making a mistake in keeping his

canaries so much to themselves. They had become so timid, that when she

went into the room they were uneasy till she left it. She told him that

petted birds or animals are sociable and like company, unless they are

kept by themselves, when they become shy. She advised him to let the

other boys go into the room, and occasionally to bring some of his

pretty singers downstairs, where all the family could enjoy seeing and

hearing them, and where they would get used to other people besides

himself.

 

Carl looked thoughtful, and his mother went on to say that there was no

one in the house, not even the cat, that would harm his birds.

 

"You might even charge admission for a day or two," said Jack, gravely,

"and introduce us to them, and make a little money."

 

Carl was rather annoyed at this, but his mother calmed him by showing

him a letter she had just gotten from one of her brothers, asking her to

let one of her boys spend his Christmas holidays in the country with

him.

 

"I want you to go, Carl," she said.

 

He was very much pleased, but looked sober when he thought of his pets.

"Laura and I will take care of them," said his mother, "and start the

new management of them."

 

"Very well," said Carl, "I will go then; I've no young ones now, so you

will not find them much trouble."

 

I thought it was a great deal of trouble to take care of them. The first

morning after Carl left, Billy, and Bella, and Davy, and I followed Miss

Laura upstairs. She made us sit in a row by the door, lest we should

startle the canaries. She had a great many things to do. First, the

canaries had their baths. They had to get them at the same time every

morning. Miss Laura filled the little white dishes with water and put

them in the cages, and then came and sat on a stool by the door. Bella,

and Billy, and Davy climbed into her lap, and I stood close by her. It

was so funny to watch those canaries. They put their heads on one side

and looked first at their little baths and then at us. They knew we were

strangers. Finally, as we were all very quiet, they got into the water;

and what a good time they had, fluttering their wings and splashing, and

cleaning themselves so nicely.

 

Then they got up on their perches and