My Doggie and I, Robert Michael Ballantyne [books for 5 year olds to read themselves .txt] 📗

Forgive me for interrupting you. I won't do it again, as the naughty boys say.--Go on, dear, with your story."

I once more covered my eyes with my hand, as if to shade them from the light, and listened, though I could scarcely conceal my agitation.

"The name of Edie," she continued, "is that by which my darling granny always called me, and it sounded so familiar--yet so strange--coming from your lips. But, after all, it is a natural abbreviation. Well, as I said, an accident befell me. I had burst away from the thieves in a state of wild horror, and was attempting to rush across a crowded thoroughfare, when a cab knocked me down. I felt a sharp pang of pain, heard a loud shout and then all was dark.

"On recovering I found myself lying in one of the beds of a hospital. My collar-bone had been broken, and I was very feverish--scarcely understood where I was, and felt a dull sense of oppression on my brain. They spoke to me, and asked my name. I don't remember distinctly how I pronounced it, but I recollect being somewhat amused at their misunderstanding what I said, and calling me Miss Eva Bright! I felt too ill to correct them at the time, and afterwards became so accustomed to Eva--for I was a very long time there--that I did not think it worth while to correct the mistake. This was very foolish and unfortunate, for long afterwards, when I began to get well enough to think coherently, and sent them to let granny know where I was, they of course went with the name of Eva Bright. It was very stupid, no doubt, but I was so weak and listless after my long and severe illness that this never once occurred to me. As it turned out, however, there would have been no difference in the result, for my darling had left her lodging and gone no one knew where. This terrible news brought on a relapse, and for many weeks, I believe, my life hung on a thread. But that thread was in the hand of God, and I had no fear."

"What is the name, Edie, of the grandmother you have lost?" I asked, in a low, tremulous voice.

"Willis--but--why do you start so? Now I am quite _sure_ you have been more severely hurt than you imagine, and that my talking so much is not good for you."

"No--Edie--no. Go on," I said firmly.

"I have little more to tell," she continued. "Dear Dr McTougall had attended me in the hospital, and took a fancy to me. When I was well enough to leave, he took me home to be governess to his children. But my situation has been an absolute sinecure as yet, for he says I am not strong enough to work, and won't let me do anything. It was not till after I had left the hospital that I told my kind friend the mistake that had been made about my name, and about my lost grandmother. He has been very kind about that, and assisted me greatly at first in my search for her. But there are so many--so many people of the name of Willis in London--old ladies too! We called together on so many that he got tired of it at last. Of course I wrote to various people at York, and to the place where we had lived before going there, but nothing came of it, and now--my hopes have long ago died out--that is to say, almost--but I still continue to make inquiries."

She paused here for some time, and I did not move or speak, being so stunned by my discovery that I knew not what to say, and feared to reveal the truth to Edith too suddenly. Then I knew by the gentle way in which she moved that she thought I had fallen asleep. I was glad of this, and remained quietly thinking.

There was no doubt now in my mind that Edie Blythe was this lost granddaughter of old Mrs Willis, but the name still remained an insoluble mystery.

"Edie," said I abruptly, "_is_ your name Blythe?"

"Of course it is," she said, in startled surprise, "why should you doubt it?"

"I _don't_ doubt it," said I, "but I'm sorely puzzled. Why is it not Willis?"

"Why?" exclaimed Edie, with a little laugh, "because I am the daughter of Granny Willis's daughter--not of her son. My father's name was Blythe!"

The simplicity of this explanation, and my gross stupidity in quietly assuming from the beginning, as a matter of course, that the lost Edie's name was the same as her grandmother's, burst upon me in its full force. The delusion had been naturally perpetuated by Mrs Willis never speaking of her lost darling except by her Christian name. For a few seconds I was silent, then I exploded in almost an hysterical fit of laughter, in the midst of which I was interrupted by the sudden entrance of my doggie, who had returned from a walk with Robin, and began to gambol round his mistress as if he had not seen her for years.

"Oh, sir! I say! I've diskivered all about--"

Little Slidder had rushed excitedly into the room, but stopped abruptly on observing Miss Blythe, who was looking from him to me with intense surprise.

Before another word could be said, a servant entered:--

"Please, Miss Blythe, Doctor McTougall wishes to see you in his study."

She left us at once.

"Now, Robin," said I, with emphasis, "sit down on that chair, opposite me, and let's hear all about it."

The excited boy obeyed, and Dumps, leaping on another chair beside him, sat down to listen, with ears erect, as if he knew what was coming.

"Oh, sir! you never--such a go!" began Robin, rubbing his hands together slowly as he spoke. "The Slogger! he twigged 'er at once. You'll open your eyes so wide that you'll never git 'em shut again, w'en you hears. No, I never _did_ see such a lark! Edie's found! I've seen her! She ain't the Queen--oh no; nor yet one o' the Queen's darters--by no means; nor yet a duchess--oh dear no, though she's like one. Who d'ye think she is? But you'll never guess."

"I'll try," said I, with a quiet smile, for I had subdued myself by that time.

"Try away then--who?"

"Miss Edith Blythe!"

On hearing this, little Slidder's eyes began to open and glisten till they outshone his own buttons.

"Why--how--ever--did you come to guess it?" gasped the boy, on recovering himself.

"I did not guess it, I found it out. Do you suppose that nobody can find out things except Sloggers and pages in buttons?"

"Oh, sir, _do_ tell!" entreated the boy.

I did tell, and after we had each told all that we knew, we mentally hugged ourselves, and grew so facetious over it that we began to address Dumps personally, to that intelligent creature's intense satisfaction.

"Now, Robin," said I, "we must break this _very_ cautiously to the old lady and Miss Blythe."

"Oh, in course--we-r-y cautiously," assented the urchin, with inconceivable earnestness.

"Well, then, off you go and fetch my greatcoat. We'll go visit Mrs Willis at once."

"At vunce," echoed Robin, as he ran out of the room, with blazing cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"Lilly," said Dr McTougall, as Edith entered his consulting-room. "I'm just off to see a patient who is very ill, and there is another who is not quite so ill, but who also wants to see me. I'll send you to the latter as my female assistant, if you will go. Her complaint is chiefly mental. In fact, she needs comfort more than physic, and I know of no one who is comparable to you in that line. Can you go?"

"Certainly, with pleasure. I'll go at once."

"Her name," said the doctor, "is Willis.--By the way, that reminds me of your loss, dear girl," he continued in a lower tone, as he gently took her hand, "but I would not again arouse your hopes. You know how many old women of this name we have seen without finding her."

"Yes, I know too well," returned poor Edith, while the tears gathered in her eyes. "I have long ago given up all hope."

But notwithstanding her statement Edith had not quite given way to despair. In spite of herself her heart fluttered a little as she sped on this mission to the abode of _another_ old Mrs Willis.


CHAPTER FOURTEEN.


THE LAST.

When Robin and I reached the abode of our old friend--in a state, let me add, of almost irrepressible excitement--we found her seated in the old arm-chair by the window, gazing sadly out on the prospect.

It was not now the prospect of red brick and water-spout, with a remote distance of chimney--cans and cats, which had crushed the old lady's spirit in other days--by no means. There was a picturesque little court, with an old pump in the centre to awaken the fancy, and frequent visits from more or less diabolical street-boys, to excite the imagination. Beyond that there was the mews, in which a lively scene of variance between horses and men was enacted from morning till night--a scene which derived much additional charm from the fact that Mrs Willis, being short-sighted, formed fearfully incorrect estimates of men, and beasts, and things in general.

"Well, granny, how are you?" said I, seating myself on a stool beside her, and thinking how I should begin.

"Pretty griggy--eh?" inquired little Slidder.

"Ah! there you are, my dear boys," said the old lady, who had latterly got to look upon me and my _protege_ as brothers. "You are always sure to come, whoever fails me."

"Has any one failed you to-day, granny?" I asked.

"Yes, Dr McTougall has," she replied as petulantly as it was possible for her to speak. "I've been feeling very low and weak to-day, and sent for him; but I suppose he thinks it's only imagination. Well, well, perhaps it is," she added, after a pause, and with a little sigh. "I'm very foolish, no doubt."

"No, granny," said I, "you're not foolish,"--("Contrariwise, wery much the reverse," interrupted Slidder)--"and I'm glad that I chanced to come in, because, perhaps, I may be able to prescribe for you as well as he."

"Better, dear boy, better"--("That's it, cheer up!" from Slidder)--"and it always does me a world of good to see your handsome face."

"Well, granny," said I, with a flutter at my heart, as I looked up at her thin careworn face, and began to break the ice with caution, "I've come--I--there's a little piece of--of--"

"Now then, dig in the spurs, doctor, an' go at it--neck or nuffin'," murmured my impatient companion.

"What are you saying, Robin?" asked Mrs Willis, with a slightly anxious look. "There's nothing wrong, I hope?"

"No, no; nothing wrong, granny," said I, hastening to the point; "very much the reverse. But--but--you heard of my accident, of course?" I said, suddenly losing heart and beating about the bush.

"Stuck again!" murmured Slidder, in a tone of disgust.

"Yes, yes; I heard of it. You don't