Fifty-Two Stories For Girls 26 – Anonymous · Verses Across
Literature · Short Stories
Fifty-Two Stories For Girls 26Part 2 · Dame Dorothy'S Dog
18
Literature · Short Stories
Fifty-Two Stories For Girls 26
Part 2 · Dame Dorothy'S Dog
AnonymousEnglish
On the outskirts of Langaffer village, and not far from the great pine forest, stood the cottage of old Dame Dorothy, with its latticed windows and picturesque porch, and its pretty little garden, fenced in with green palings and privet hedge.
Dame Dorothy was a nice, particular old lady, who spent her time in and about her house, trying to make things neat and cosy. In winter she might be seen polishing her mahogany furniture, rubbing bright her brazen candlesticks and copper kettle, or sweeping about the fireplace; whilst in summertime she was mostly busy weeding her garden, raking the little walks, and watering her flowers.
Yet she never smiled, only sighed very often; and toiled every day more diligently than the day before.
Strange to say, Dame Dorothy was not comfortable in spite of all her conscientiously-performed labours; nor happy, although she lived in such a beautiful little cottage. She never imagined for a moment that the cause of this could be the fact--that she kept a black dog.
Black Nero was a magnificent mastiff, with not a white hair on his back. He had run into Dame Dorothy's one Fifth of November from the forest, when quite a little puppy; and she had housed him and fed him ever since; and now she was so much attached to him that she declared she could not part with him for the world.
In return for her care he trampled over her flower-beds, tore down her hollyhocks, and scraped up the roots of her "London Pride" with his fore-paws; made a passage for himself through her privet hedge, and lay stretched on fine days his full length on her rustic sofa in the door-porch.
When the rosy-cheeked village children passed by to school in the morning Nero snarled and snapped at them through the railings, so that not one durst venture to say "Good-morrow, Dame Dorothy."
Even the next-door neighbours were afraid of him; and some acquaintances of the widow, who themselves kept cats and dogs, and nice little soft kittens as pets, now rarely invited her over to a friendly dance or a wedding or christening; for if they did the black dog was certain to accompany his mistress; and then, in the midst of the party, he would raise such a barking, and create such a confusion, that none of the dames could get speaking.
In winter, when the cold blasts swirled dreamily through the leafless branches of the Langaffer beeches, causing them to creak and moan; when the snow lay thick upon the ground, and the nights closed in apace, and the villagers relished the comforts of the "ingle-nook," then--alas!--there was no fireside enjoyment for poor Dame Dorothy. She might fasten her shutters, and draw her armchair close to the hearth; she might pile up the logs in the chimney to make a blazing fire--but all in vain! Home cheer there was none; for the black dog was there, with his great body extended between her and the warmth. She might boil the kettle, and gaze at herself in its shining lid; but Nero's face was reflected in the kettle-lid too; and in all the lids, and pots and pans, and pewters and coppers right round the room, with his ugly muzzle half-open for growling and snarling.
Moreover, the dog was so greedy and thankless, he never wagged his tail, but would snap at the victuals his mistress herself was eating; and when she did give him the choicest dainties that came off her gridiron, and the very top of the cream, he would only whine for more.
For all this, Dame Dorothy had no idea of parting with the graceless brute, but continued to pet and pamper him. She was even secretly proud of Nero, because he was the biggest dog in the village, and by far the most terrible. Once she told the neighbours over the palings that he was a great protection to her, especially at night, and she "such a poor lone widow!"
Whereupon these good people honestly replied, "Oh, Mistress Dorothy, never dread a worse enemy than your own black dog!"
Then in her heart she remembered how that very morning Nero had indeed caught her thumb between his teeth when impatiently snatching his food; and how the evening before he had upset the milkpail, and left the black mark of his paw on her new knitted quilt; and how, one day last week, he had sat down on her best Sunday cap. And Dame Dorothy knew in her heart that the village folk spoke truly; but she would not acknowledge it, no--but with a melancholy shake of her head, repeated, "Poor dear Nero! People have something against thee, my dear black doggie!"
Now it happened that one fine morning in May, when the lark was warbling high overhead, and the hawthorn bushes were putting on their first pink blossoms, and all the forest was gay with budding flowers and singing birds, and the village school-children were passing hand-in-hand, carrying their little slates and satchels, that they met a tiny fairy all in white, with a wondrous beaming face, and golden hair floating down over her shoulders. Naturally they stopped to stare at her, for they had never seen such a lovely little lady before; and she smiled pleasantly, for she had never beheld such a collection of wondering round eyes, and so many wide-open mouths gaping at her.
Presently she asked, "Can you tell me, young people, whose is that pretty cottage, so nicely situated at the corner of the wood, with the beautiful porch and palings?"
"Dame Dorothy's!" exclaimed they all in a breath.
"It must be very delightful there," she continued. "I shall go in, and see Dame Dorothy."
"Don't! She keeps a dog," cried one, "and he will eat you up."
"Such a nasty, big black dog," added another, "that barks----"
"Like a lion," interposed a third.
"And bites like a tiger!" added a fourth.
"Oh, don't go, pretty lady!" repeated a fifth and sixth, and many more childish voices together; "and pray don't open the gate, for we are all so afraid he might spring out at us."
"Thank you, my dears, but I am not afraid," said the fairy. "And I intend to visit Dame Dorothy all the same."
Then the children were more astonished still when they saw her glide in between the palings without ever unlatching the gate. She was such a slender little fairy-body! But they held their breaths, and clutched at one another's skirts with fear, as they heard the harsh yelp of Nero, and perceived him bounding forward from his seat in the doorway.
"Ah! eh! oh! he will devour her!" they all gasped out together. But just then the little lady was waving her tiny hand toward their school-house; and they all ran on so fast, so fast, that the door was not quite closed when they arrived.
And now the good little fairy with her white dress, and her golden tresses floating behind her, fixed her blue eyes very steadily on the dog's black eyes, and held up her tiny forefinger.
Thus she walked straight into Dame Dorothy's cottage, and, as she flung open the door, a whole flood of sunshine streamed in along with her.
And the black dog hung his head, and followed her slowly, growling and grinding his teeth as if he would best like to snatch her, and munch her up, and swallow her down all in a minute.
But Dame Dorothy was enchanted with her bright little visitor; for, to tell the truth, the callers-in were very rare that year at the woodside cottage, and the widow's heart often yearned for some one to speak to.
The white fairy inquired how it was that so few flowers were seen in the garden, and so few birds' nests under the eaves of the cottage; and why Dame Dorothy did not take her knitting that fine morning, and enjoy the bright sun in the doorway?
The widow looked melancholy, and heaved a deep sigh; but the black dog, who had overheard every syllable, sneaked away with a low growling noise, and knocked down a chair on purpose to indicate his malice.
"I shall return another day," said the good little fairy as she rose to take leave, "and bring you such a sweet nosegay fresh from the forest, to decorate the table and cheer your heart, because," she added, quite in a whisper, lest Nero might hear her--"because I am sorry to see you have none left in your flower-beds."
From this day forth Dame Dorothy's dog was "poorly." He skulked about the garden, keeping to the gravel walk, with drooping ears and tail between his legs. And by-and-by he began to leave his food untasted.
The poor widow noticed the change, and became anxious. Then presently she grew more uneasy; and at last, greatly concerned about her favourite's health, she set about cutting him out a warm coat for the autumn out of her own best velvet mantle, for she was sure he had taken the influenza.
By-and-by she observed that Nero grew worse on the days of the bright little fairy's visits; that no sooner did the white robe and the golden hair cross the threshold than he would move away from the fireside, slink whining under the tables and chairs, and pass outside the house altogether.
Yet Dame Dorothy could not help loving the sunny fairy who every time fetched a lovely posy of sweet-scented flowers from the forest; to say nothing of her winning voice, her musical laughter, her gentle, loving eyes.
And the village children trooped often now past the woodside cottage, for they wanted to catch a glimpse of the fairy as she went in and out; and they were quite overjoyed when she spoke to them.
At last one day Dame Dorothy, who had got into the habit of telling the fairy everything, thought she would consult her about her dog.
"Ah me, my poor Nero!" she said; "look at him, he is not thriving at all. And what will become of me, a lone widow woman, if aught befall my black dog? And only think, I cannot persuade him to wear the jacket I sewed for him out of my own best mantle!"
"Poor black dog!" said the little fairy as gravely as she could, and nothing more.
After that she went away; and the same night the dog disappeared.
Dame Dorothy sought for him high and low, called him by name, coaxingly, entreatingly; but all in vain. Then she sat down in her great armchair by her own fireside, and began to weep for her favourite.
Now it was a very comfortable chair, and the beech-logs in the wide grate sent out a nice warm glow, and it was the first time for months that the rightful possessor of the place could enjoy these in undisturbed tranquillity.
Dame Dorothy soon fell fast asleep. And then she had such funny dreams about white dogs, and black fairies, and school children, all clothed in little jackets cut out of her own best mantle, that she laughed aloud several times in her sleep, and indeed did not waken until the morning sun sent his beams in through the diamond panes of her window.
Many days Dame Dorothy searched for her black dog in every corner of the cottage, and under every bush in the garden, and all among her privet hedge, for she was sure he had lain down in some spot to die. But not the least trace of him did she discover.
And then she gathered up all her grief to pour it forth in one loud, intense lamentation the first time the bright little fairy should arrive.
"But oh, do not weep so, good Dame Dorothy," said the little lady. "When I return again, I shall fetch you another pet to keep you company all day long, and bring joy to your heart, and peace to your fireside!"
She kept faithful to her promise, the good little fairy; for the next time she came from the forest she brought with her a lovely white-breasted turtle-dove for Dame Dorothy.
The village children saw her on the road, and they all flocked in before her, crying, "Good-morrow, Dame Dorothy. Oh, you are going to get such a beautiful, beautiful bird!" Then the old lady smiled at the children, as she never had smiled for years and years.
And, as the days went by, the little garden near the great pine forest grew fair and fragrant. The roses and the sweet woodbine clambered over the pretty porch. The hollyhocks and the London-pride flourished once more, and the little birds built their nests, and twittered fearlessly under the eaves of the rustic cottage.
The new white pet became so tame and so gentle that it would eat from its mistress's hand, and would perch lovingly upon her shoulder.
And when she was invited by her old acquaintances in the village to an afternoon party, she was always requested to bring her pet along with her; for all the villagers, young and old, who had formerly dreaded the great black dog, now loved and welcomed Dame Dorothy's dove.
