Chapter 17

HAPPY TOWZER.

Towzer lay on the warm hearth and blinked at the fire, while his thick coat was drying.

"I tell you what it is," said Bertie; "if there is any virtue in good living, I mean to put a streak of fat on that fellow's bones."

"You can't do it," returned Jack. "I have been a-working on him these two years. He is one of your lean kind."

"I intend to try it, to pay for his kindness to Flora."

"How would it do to plaster him all over with beef steak?" queried Charley.

"That is my plan," said Bertie. "What do you think of it, my dog?"

He thought it the best piece of news he had ever heard, and he left his warm, corner to thank Bertie in his dumb but eloquent way. He looked up into Bertie's face and wagged his tail, and said as plainly as a dog could say, that he was grateful. Mamma exchanged the blue dress for a flannel wrapper. It never could be called pretty again. Then she brushed out the wet curls and chafed the rosy feet with her own warm hands. Under such treatment, Flora began to revive.

"Going to be a good girl," she said, gratefully.

"And mind mamma?"

"I will. Never open the big gate again."

"Did you open it?"

"I did. Flora is hungry."

How happy she was, sitting on papa's knee with a bowl of bread and milk in her lap!

When Amy brought it, she grasped it eagerly with both fat hands and took a long, deep draught.

"The little pet is nearly starved," said Amy.

"The little pet will never forget this day," said papa; "she has had a hard lesson."

After she had eaten all the bread and milk, Jack and Towzer were brought in to say good night; and Towzer poked his nose against the rosy feet, to make sure that they were no longer cold and wet, and rested his head for a moment upon papa's knee.

"Come again," said Flora.

"He will be a-fetching up here every other thing," said Jack. "You needn't bother about asking of him. All is, if he gets sassy you must kick him out."

"I should like to see anybody kick that dog when I am round," said Charley, doubling up his fist and looking warlike. "He would find that he had got his match."

"We will shake hands on that," said Bertie. Which they did quite solemnly.

And then they shook hands with Jack, and Towzer went back to have more last words with Flora, and a parting embrace: and after they were gone Flora was so drowsy, that she could not tell about her ride in the soap man's little blue cart, her head drooped upon papa's shoulder, and her eyelids were very heavy.

"She has not said her prayer," observed Bertie, who hoped she would keep awake long enough to tell the story of her adventure.

"Try," said Charley.

"Yes, darling, try," urged Bertie.

But Flora was too far gone even to try; so mamma laid her gently down in her own comfortable bed, where the rain and the wind could not disturb her slumbers, and lovingly stroked the fair hair and the soft cheek. She was very thankful that her little daughter was safe once more under the dear home roof. But Flora thought she was lying out under the old trees, and in her dreams could smell the sweet grass and the fresh earth, and once she laughed aloud in her sleep; she was running away from the rain and from the night.

When Charley and Bertie went home it was still raining fast. But they had not far to go. They lived in the new brown cottage over the way, you will remember, that was built to take the place of their old home, destroyed by fire. When they were going down the steps, Charley struck some object with his foot. "Holloa!" he said, and Bertie asked "What now?"

"I have run against a snag," said Charley.

"Where away?"

"Down here next the bottom step. I have sent something flying."

"I don't see anything," said Bertie, groping about in the dark. "It can't be good for much, if it has been out in this shower. Where did she land?"

"Somewhere in the path. I should say you could not go far wrong, if you were to follow your nose."

"Indeed!"

"It is precious damp."

"Awful!" said Bertie. "I cannot bear to think of Flora wandering round in such a storm."

"It was rather rough on the Baby Pitcher," asserted Charley.

"It is bad enough to be lost in fair weather with daylight before you."

"I believe you. What is this?"

Bertie had stumbled upon the object.

"That must be the article," said Charley. "Bring it to the light."

They carried it into the hall and threw it upon a mat, for it was dripping, and Charley turned it over with his foot.

"What do you make of it?" queried Bertie.

"It is the black baby," said Charley.

"Or her remains?"

"Yes, there isn't much left of her."

"It does not look much like Dinah, and that is a fact."

"She is pretty well used up, all but one eye. That looks natural."

"Yes," said Bertie, "very. Can't she be brought round?"

"I am afraid not. One sound eye isn't enough to build on."

"What a pity!" said Bertie. "If she cannot be patched up what are we going to do?"

Charley shook his head.

"We must keep it from Flora."

"Yes."

"We will hide it."

"Where?"

"Anywhere so that Flora may never find it."

"Good!" said Charley. "We will hide it, and she will think her baby has turned into a blackbird and flown away."

So they carried the black baby home with them, and Flora never saw her again. But they saved the blue glass button; it would do for an eye if Grandma should chance to make another Dinah.

What had become of Dinah was a wonder. Flora sought her first in the library, where she had left her sleeping, then in every place she could think of; but the baby was gone; there was not a trace of it anywhere. And the perfumery was gone too. Flora was not long in making that discovery, and she felt worse about the perfumery than she did about Dinah. She knew that was lost when she put her hand in the pocket of her blue dress, but she did not give up Dinah for a long, long time. In fact she never felt certain that the black baby would not return to her. If she had gone to be a blackbird, as Charley suggested, why, she might be coming back some day. Perhaps she would get tired of being a bird, or she might break a wing as the robin had done, and if she did, she should never get another chance to fly away.

Grandma did not make another Dinah. It would have been a new one, and could never take the place of the old; and as Flora was so hopeful, Grandma thought she would be happier in looking forward to the return of her long-tried friend than she could ever be with a new favorite. But Dinah's place was not long vacant. Towzer fitted into it quite naturally, and, as he was in many respects a more pleasant companion, Flora did not miss the black baby as she otherwise would have done.