CHAPTER XXIII

THIRD COUSIN ANNIE

Third Cousin Annie was a very grand person, and very rich, and her limousine drew up before our door in the middle of the next morning.

She flew into the house and greeted Niger most effusively, and Mrs. Martin and our Mary quite calmly.

Niger wagged his tail at her, then looked out the window.

“My darling dog,” she cried, “companion of my travels, how I have missed you!”

Niger looked up at Daisy and me and at Sister Susie, who was sitting on the top of our cage, and winked.

“Do you know, Cousin Annie,” said our Missie, “that this is the dog that was stolen from us?”

“Not possible,” she said.

“Yes, and he ran back last night and got into Mary’s bed. First, he was afraid of her—he thought she was scolding him for leaving her; he is very sensitive, you know—then, when she left the room, he got in her bed.”

“Only fancy!” exclaimed Third Cousin Annie—“I’m so sorry to take him from you.”

“But you’re not going to take him,” said our Missie firmly.

“But he’s my dog. I gave the man ten dollars for him.”

“And we, prior to that, gave another man five dollars for him, because Mary had taken a fancy to him.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Ringworth, getting up, “but he’s my dog, and I’m going to have him. Come home, Blackie!”

I was sitting beside Daisy, who had laid three beautiful eggs, and I trembled nervously, for I hate to see human beings upset. I had never before seen Mrs. Martin angry, and I was sorry to see the red spots in her cheeks. Our Mary said nothing, but just sat patting the dog.

“Of course he is a fool of a dog,” said Mrs. Ringworth, “and can do nothing but roll over and act silly, but I have got used to him and like him.”

“Has he never talked to you?” asked our Missie.

“Talked to me—what do you mean?”

“Has he never asked you for a crumb?” said Missie coldly.

Mrs. Ringworth stared at her, as if she thought she were crazy.

“A crumb—how foolish!—but I remember that you Martins are always reading things into dogs. Of course he can’t talk.”

“Niger,” said Mrs. Martin, “can’t you say, ‘Jus’ a crumb?’”

“Tra, la, la, la, la,” I sang, “don’t you do it, Niger,” and Sister Susie cooed, “No—no—no—ooo.”

He winked again and said, “Bow, wow, wow,” quite roughly.

Mrs. Ringworth got up and burst into a forced laugh. “You are certainly very short-sighted, cousin, to try to add to the value of a thing you wish to retain. Come on, Blackie.”

“Don’t you do it, doggie, doggie, doggie,” I sang, and Daisy peeped, “Stay, stay dog, stay here.”

Niger looked out the window and yawned as if he were bored.

“Dog,” said Mrs. Ringworth angrily and stamping her foot, “come with me; I command you!”

He got up and, sauntering over to the corner, picked up some crumbs that had fallen from our cage.

“Ungrateful cur,” said Mrs. Ringworth, “after all I have done for you—but you’ve got to go with me. You’re my property. I wish I had a string.”

Mrs. Martin and Mary sat like two stuffed birds, and did not move even their eyes.

Their cousin pulled a handsome silk scarf off her neck and tied it to the dog’s collar. Then she started to pull him—Niger perfectly good natured but bracing his feet.

Suddenly she turned in a passion to our Missie. “Why don’t you prevent me? He’s your dog, you say.”

“I shall not use force, cousin,” said Mrs. Martin. “If I thought you were going to be unkind to him, I would, but I know you would never illtreat an animal.”

Her tone was quite amiable, though cold, and her cousin looked as if she did not know what to do. Then she started again, pulling and hauling Niger over the carpet. By the time she reached the hall she was quite out of breath, and meeting Mr. Martin who was coming home early to lunch, she was confounded to hear him burst into a roar of laughter.

Quickly recovering himself, he said, “A thousand pardons, Mrs. Ringworth, but the sight was so—so overcoming. Allow me to pull that dog for you.”

“Your wife wants to keep it,” said Mrs. Ringworth defiantly.

“Naturally,” he said with great good humor. “He’s our dog.”

“But I bought him,” said Mrs. Ringworth persistently.

“And you love the creature,” said Mr. Martin, with a merry twinkle in his eye.

“I adore him,” said the lady fervently.

“And wish him to be happy,” went on Mr. Martin.

“Y—y—yes,” she said rather unwillingly, for she began to see the door of the trap he was leading her into.

“Then suppose we leave it to the dog,” said Mr. Martin. “We are quite willing to abide by his own choice,” and gently taking the scarf from her hands, he slipped it through the dog’s collar, and Niger stood free.

“Now, allow me to escort you to your car,” said Mr. Martin, “or, better still, go alone, for I would confuse the dog. You call him, and we will say nothing, and see which he prefers.”

Third Cousin Annie was nearly choking with wrath, but she was helpless. Looking beyond her, I could see Chummy’s amused face, as he sat staring in the hall window. He was greatly interested in all that concerned the Martin family.

“Come here, Blackie, Blackie!” said Mrs. Ringworth, backing toward the staircase.

Niger never budged, but when she kept on he turned his back on her and went to lay his head on our Mary’s lap.

Mrs. Ringworth was so furious that she could not speak, and she turned and went quickly down the staircase to her car.

Mr. Martin ran after her and presently came back laughing. “She is all right now. I told her I could get her a thoroughbred Airedale that a friend of mine wishes to give away, and what do you think she said?”

“One never knows what Third Cousin Annie will say,” replied Missie.

Mr. Martin smiled. “She said, ‘I am glad to get a thoroughbred; I am tired of curs.’”

I stared at Niger. He didn’t care—he was wagging his tail.

“Who is going for Billie?” said our Mary suddenly. “The veterinary has just telephoned that she is ready to come home.”

“I will,” said Mrs. Martin. “Mary dear, sit with your father while he has his lunch. Come on, Niger, and have a walk.”

“Oh! jus’ a crumb,” growled Niger, “jus’ a crumb, jus’ a crumb, crumb, crumb!”

They all burst out laughing. “You slyboots,” said Mrs. Martin, “we will stop in the kitchen and pick up a crumb as we go out.”

Niger told us afterward, that while he was in California, he had throat trouble, and Mrs. Ringworth had kindly spent a lot of money in having his throat doctored. But, he said, he had a lump there, until the night he ran back to his dear Mary, when in his emotion, something seemed to break and he was growling out a strange sound he had never made before.

The children on the street nearly went crazy over his accomplishment, and Sammy-Sam used to lead him up and down, making him say “Jus’ a crumb,” till his throat was sore. He says it hurts him to say it, and he only does it in moments of deep feeling, or to please a friend.