CHAPTER IV.
Zoology in connection with history.
"Walk to that young lady, sir,--walk, I say." The poodle slowly rose on
his hind legs, and, with an aspect inexpressibly solemn, advanced towards
Sophy, who hastily receded into the room in which the creature had been
confined.
"Make a bow--no--a bow, sir; that is right: you can shake hands another
time. Run down, Sophy, and ask for his dinner."
"Yes; that I will;" and Sophy flew down the stairs.
The dog, still on his hind legs, stood in the centre of the floor
dignified, but evidently expectant.
"That will do; lie down and die. Die this moment, sir." The dog
stretched himself out, closed his eyes, and to all appearance gave up the
ghost. "A most splendid investment," said Waife, with enthusiasm; "and
upon the whole, clog cheap. Ho! you are not to bring up his dinner; it
is not you who are to make friends with the dog; it is my little girl;
send her up; Sophy, Sophy!"
"She be fritted, sir," said the woman, holding a plate of canine
comestibles; "but lauk, sir, bent he really dead?"
"Sophy, Sophy"
"Please let me stay here, Grandy," said Sophy's voice from the foot of
the stairs.
"Nonsense! it is sixteen hours since he has had a morsel to eat. And he
will never bite the hand that feeds him now. Come up, I say."
Sophy slowly reascended, and Waife summoning the poodle to life, insisted
upon the child's feeding him. And indeed, when that act of charity was
performed, the dog evinced his gratitude by a series of unsophisticated
bounds and waggings of the tail, which gradually removed Sophy's
apprehensions, and laid the foundation for that intimate friendship which
is the natural relation between child and dog.
"And how did you come by him?" asked Sophy; "and is this really the--the
INVESTMENT?"
"Shut the door carefully, but see first that the woman is not listening.
Lie down, sir, there, at the feet of the young lady. Good dog! How did
I come by him? I will tell you. The first day we arrived at the village
which we have just left I went into the tobacconist's. While I was
buying my ounce of canaster that dog entered the shop. In his mouth was
a sixpence wrapped in paper. He lifted himself on his hind legs, and
laid his missive on the counter. The shopwoman--you know her, Mrs.
Traill--unfolded the paper and read the order. 'Clever dog that, sir,'
said she. 'To fetch and carry?' said I, indifferently. 'More than that,
sir; you shall see. The order is for two penn'orth of snuff. The dog
knows he is to take back fourpence. I will give him a penny
short.' So she took the sixpence and gave the dog threepence out of it.
The dog shook his head and looked gravely into her face. 'That's all
you'll get,' said she. The dog shook his head again, and tapped his paw
once on the counter, as much as to say, 'I'm not to be done: a penny
more, if you please.' 'If you'll not take that, you shall have nothing,'
said Mrs. Traill, and she took back the threepence."
"Dear! and what did the dog do then,--snarl or bite?" "Not so; he knew
he was in his rights, and did not lower himself by showing bad temper.
The dog looked quietly round, saw a basket which contained two or three
pounds of candles lying in a corner for the shop boy to take to some
customer; took up the basket in his mouth, and turned tail, as much as to
say, 'Tit for tat then.' He understood, you see, what is called 'the law
of reprisals.' 'Come back this moment,' cried Mrs. Traill. The dog
walked out of the shop; then she ran after him, and counted the fourpence
before him, on which he dropped the basket, picked up the right change,
and went off demurely. 'To whom does that poodle belong?' said I. 'To a
poor drunken man,' said Mrs. Traill; 'I wish it was in better hands.'
'So do I, ma'am,' answered I; 'did he teach it?' 'No, it was taught by
his brother, who was an old soldier, and died in his house two weeks ago.
It knows a great many tricks, and is quite young. It might make a
fortune as a show, sir.' So I was thinking. I inquired the owner's
address, called on him, and found him disposed to sell the dog. But he
asked L3, a sum that seemed out of the question then. Still I kept the
dog in my eye; called every day to make friends with it, and ascertain
its capacities. And at last, thanks to you, Sophy, I bought the dog; and
what is more, as soon as I had two golden sovereigns to show, I got him
for that sum, and we have still L1. left (besides small savings from our
lost salaries) to go to the completion of his education, and the
advertisement of his merits. I kept this a secret from Merle,--from all.
I would not even let the drunken owner know where I took the dog to
yesterday. I brought him here, where, I learned in the village, there
were two rooms to let, locked him up, and my story is told."
"But why keep it such a secret?"
"Because I don't want Rugge to trace us. He might do one a mischief;
because I have a grand project of genteel position and high prices for
the exhibition of that dog. And why should it be known where we come
from, or what we were? And because, if the owner knew where to find the
dog, he might decoy it back from us. Luckily he had not made the dog so
fond of him but what, unless it be decoyed, it will accustom itself to
us. And now I propose that we should stay a week or so here, and devote
ourselves exclusively to developing the native powers of this gifted
creature. Get out the dominos."
"What is his name?"
"Ha! that is the first consideration. What shall be his name?"
"Has he not one already?"
"Yes,--trivial and unattractive,--Mop! In private life it might pass.
But in public life--give a dog a bad name and hang him. Mop, indeed!"
Therewith Mop, considering himself appealed to, rose and stretched
himself.
"Right," said Gentleman Waife; "stretch yourself--you decidedly require
it."
