menu_book Chapter 9

CHAPTER IX. A few afternoons later, Tilda Jane and Grandpa were sitting in the kitchen. Grandpa had gone downtown to buy some sausages for their supper, and Hank had not yet come home from the mill. Grandpa was eyeing the little girl curiously as she sat turning up a hem in the fine warm

dressing gown that Hank had recently bought for her. Tilda Jane had her pretty work-basket beside her, and as she turned to it for some more thread she said, "'Tis a pity, Grandpa, that this lovely thing was so long that you tripped on it, but I'm making it all right." Grandpa did not reply at once.

His thoughts were in the past. After a time he said slowly, "'You told Mr. Weismith on me.' Tilda Jane dropped her work and stared at him. Then she said, "'Course I did, and I'm so happy in my mind about it that I don't know what to do.'"

Grandpa frowned and in his turn stared at her. Her face was shrewd but composed, and she was surveying him like a little fox, he muttered. "'You stole on me at night,' he went on grumbling. "'You listened to talk not meant for your ears, and it ain't the first time. You did it two years ago.'

"'Sure I did,' she said eloquently, and I tell you now as I told you then. "'Could I lie in bed, warm and comfy, and hear you moaning and crying and fussing in your sleep like a poor dog that has lost her pups? No. I went creepy, creepy downstairs to see if I could do anything for you.

I did it two years ago, and I've done it this year, and I'll do it next year, if you go and pick up any more trouble.' "'Don't you dare,' said the old man, his face becoming red. You stay in your room at night.' "'All right, Grandpa,' she said diplomatically.

"'I guess I'll have no more occasion to roam. You're easy in your mind now, and as quiet as one of Job's mice. I guess that the plague times in your life are all over.' "'You needn't have told,' reiterated the old man stubbornly.

"'Oh, Grandpa,' said Tilda Jane with animation, and throwing down her work she rose and stood over him. Some folks are ugly some of the time. Other folks are ugly none of the time, but no folks ought to be ugly all the time like you used to be.

Seemed to me that you was going to die, and I thought something ought to be done. You were like a poor old orphan that had no one to care for you but me. I know boys and girls ought to be seen and not heard, but what could I do? I tried Hank with hints thrown out, but he wouldn't catch them.' "'I suppose you told Hank the whole rigmarole,' said Grandpa disagreeably.

"'He doesn't even dream of it,' said Tilda Jane earnestly. I took good care not to blab your sorrows to anyone. That's why I went myself to Mr. Waysmith. You know, and he knows, and me and God, and we'll never tell, will we, dear?' And as she spoke she tenderly patted the ball-spot on the top of his white head.

Grandpa was silent. He was moved despite himself and did not know what to say. Tilda Jane went on soothingly. "'I blame myself for not getting at the root of your trouble sooner. I used to think it was that sixty dollars that was bothering you.

I might have known it was unnatural for you to be bellowing at me so much at the time and hurling your crutches about and smashing dishes just for sixty dollars.' Grandpa's head drooped a little under Tilda Jane's caressing touch, and he gazed shame-facedly at his crutches. "'It wasn't reason she went on, for you weren't a bad enough man to cut up that way.

And when I found out how I could clear up everything for you, wasn't I, your little girl, bound to stand by you?' Grandpa raised his head. Tilda Jane had done wisely. Yet he was the man of the house, and to prevent this young thing from crowing over him,

because she had brought him relief, he would assert himself a little. "'We'll let bygones be bygones,' he said stiffly. "'The spying times are over, and don't you bother your young head about my affairs any more. I've had a way of talking things over in my sleep. As I told you two years back, I've had it all my life.

Don't you listen any more.' And he emphasized his remarks by a sturdy tap of one of his crutches on the floor. "'I hear,' said Tilda Jane affectionately, "'and I will heed. I guess I'll have nothing more to call for spying. You're just the best old man in Saskasset now,

except when the habit of giving a growl comes over you, and I hope you'll live to be a hundred.' "'I'd like a cup of tea,' said Grandpa gently. "'All right,' exclaimed Tilda Jane. "'Tea you shall have, as long as I'm alive to make it.' "'Good and strong, with the thickest of cream in it and lots of sugar,

and couldn't you eat a bite of gingerbread with it, Grandpa? Just fresh-baked.' "'I might take a morsel,' he said obligingly. Tilda Jane ran to put fresh water in the tea kettle, and as she set it on the stove, she said, "'Now, Grandpa, while you drink your tea, I'm going to run next door a spell.' To speak to Mrs. Meliquon, I'm bothered about her hens.

They don't seem very fit, and she knows a lot about them. If you want me, just ring the big bell. I'll put it beside you. Open the window and give a good peel. I'll not be more than five minutes, and Perletta likely will be here before I'm back.' Grandpa nodded, and a short time later sat alone drinking his tea and thinking gratefully of the little orphan girl who was as attentive and respectful as if she were his own daughter.

He did not praise her to her face, would spoil her, he muttered. I hate upish girls. Strange to say, not long after Tilda Jane stepped out the back door, someone rang the bell at the front one. "'Who's that?' said Grandpa, setting down his empty cup. I guess I'll go see. I feel fifty percent better these last few days, and seizing his crutches, he went nimbly through the narrow hall to the front door. To his amazement, though he only

gazed stolidly before him, Mr. Waysmith stood in the doorway with a basket on his arm and a smile on his face. "'Come in, sir,' said Grandpa at last. "'Come to the kitchen. It's the only warm place in the house.' And he hobbled before him. Mr. Waysmith followed closely, and on arriving in the kitchen, sat down in a chair just opposite Grandpa's own comfortable seat.

"'Are you alone?' asked the merchant. Grandpa nodded. "'So much the better. I've brought you something that I dare say will astonish you,' and he glanced at the basket that he had set close to the stove. "'You can't astonish me,' said Grandpa grimly. "'I'm too old.' "'The old have certainly seen many things,' said Mr. Waysmith calmly.

"'Yet I dare say when I tell you I have brought you a pup to bring up, you'll be a little more than astonished.' "'Me?' ejaculated Grandpa. "'Bring up a pup? I hate dogs.' "'I know,' said Mr. Waysmith, with a reassuring nod of his head.

"'Don't be disturbed. I will explain.' "'I was much struck by that young girl who came to me to speak about your affair,' he paused, and Grandpa said stoically. "'Tilda Jane?' "'Yes, I know. I've been making inquiries about her,' said Mr. Waysmith,

and I want to say that I am here today for purely business purpose. No philanthropy about it.' "'All right,' breathed Grandpa with inward relief. "'She has a most curious insight into animal nature,' said Mr. Waysmith. "'A sympathetic and strangely understanding insight.

"'Now my dog there took to her at once.' "'Your dog?' repeated Grandpa. "'There's no dog here, is there?' "'Tilda Jane took hers with her. "'Mr. Waysmith motioned to the darkest corner of the room.

"'Wait till I get my specs,' said Grandpa, and putting them on, he, to his further amazement, discovered the dark and silent Muffles lying close against the wall. "'I didn't see him come in,' said Grandpa. "'Hardly anyone sees him,' said the caller. "'He slinks about and lies in corners.

"'A dissatisfied employee once entered my office with the intention of terrorizing me by means of a revolver. Muffles found him out before I did, and when the man attempted to draw his weapon from his side pocket, the dog's teeth fastened on his wrist. The man was so overcome that he fell to the ground. Grandpa grunted in a lively way and surveyed the dog with new respect. "'And another time when I was in a New York hotel, my dog, who never seems to sleep, sprang on the

bed and tore at the sheets. The hotel was on fire, and with him at my heels I had barely time to get into the street before the building was wrapped in flames. "'Any lives lost?' asked Grandpa. "'Twenty,' replied Mr. Waysmith, with a contraction of his forehead. "'But enough of these dismal themes. I merely wished you to understand that, though hardly anyone suspects it, I take a profound interest in man's best friend, the dog.

I own some kennels in Boston, and my dogs are often exhibited. Now you may know that there are fashions in dogs.' "'Hard there?' said Grandpa. "'I only know one kind of dog, the yaller cur. He's always with us.' Mr. Waysmith smiled. "'I go in for thoroughbreds, especially the small or toy kind. You see that dog muffles, though well bred is small for his breed. There have been fashions in black and tan toy terriers, pug dogs, fox terriers, bull terriers, spitz dogs, all kinds

of terriers. I won't enumerate every variety, but a time has come for a new breed, and I think we have started it in Boston.' "'I didn't know you were sporty,' remarked Grandpa. Mr. Waysmith at first frowned and then smiled broadly. "'I am not sporty, Dilsen, but you know every man likes some interest apart from his work. You have little idea, when my business is over, how absorbed I become in different dog combinations. You know to obtain new forms

there must be different crosses, often inbreeding.' "'Don't know the terms,' said Grandpa, shaking his head. "'But go on, sir. I'm pleased to hear you talk.' Pleased and flattered, Mr. Waysmith saw that, and with a glow at his heart in consequence of giving the old man pleasure, he went on. We have, I think, got what we wanted last in a small dog with mostly bulldog characteristics. But here is my trouble. The men and boys who have to do with the raising of the pups are usually

coarse-grained fellows. I have tried to get women or girls to undertake the upbringing of the young dogs, but while they have sympathy, they have not knowledge. They don't care for dogs, as men do. Now it occurred to me that this young girl, tilde Jane, who has such an understanding of dog character, might successfully raise one of our new puppies, and I have brought one of the finest. "'If you tell her to raise him, she'll do it,' said Grandpa agreeably.

I would rather not have my name mentioned in connection with the animal. If she knows the dog is for me, she will be unduly exercised about it, and she is only a young girl. I don't want her worried.' "'Are they worth much?' asked Grandpa, when they're brought up. Mr. Waysmith smiled and, with his eyes on the old man's face, said, "'I value that fellow there under the stove at one thousand dollars.'

Grandpa almost fell out of his chair. "'A pup,' he gasped. Coronation! I never heard of such a thing. Let's have a look at him, sir.' Mr. Waysmith laughed irrepressibly. "'Remember, Dilson, he is to be one of the founders of a race.' Then, taking up the basket, he lifted out a soft, pale blue woolen shawl and exhibited a dark,

brindled pup, about eight weeks old. Grandpa settled his glasses more firmly on his nose and stared with eyes and mouth wide open. "'I want it to be your pup, Dilson,' said Mr. Waysmith kindly. "'You give it to the little girl to bring up. You can say, A friend left it with you. Then, when it is a healthy young dog, I will relieve you of the care of it.' "'Suppose it dies?' asked Grandpa, true to his habit of usually looking on the dark side of things.

"'Not a word will be said except of thanks to you for your attention given it. The animal comes of delicate stock. I dare say he may die, but I shall be very happy if he lives and will reward you handsomely for your trouble.' "'Til DeJane will do the work,' said Grandpa hastily. "'Certainly I understand that, but I consider you as a family. The pup may be mischievous about the house.' "'As a boy I kept dogs,' said Grandpa. They used to chew up everything in sight.'

Mr. Waysmith's face darkened. "'I was born with a love for animals, but was never allowed to keep a dog. Possibly that is the reason I am so much interested in them at the present time. Now I must go. I am glad I happened to find you alone. May I leave the pup?' Grandpa did not hesitate an instant. "'You may, sir,' he said with dignity, and I'll tell the young girl under my care to do her best for him. I'll not inform her of his value.

If I would bow her down with care, she'll be just as good to him thinking he's a cur.' "'Thank you, Dilson,' said Mr. Waysmith simply. "'I'm happy to oblige you, sir,' said Grandpa, and kindly take away that fine basket and this faldy roll.' He said, pushing the pale blue shawl with his crutch. "'Looks too much like a thousand dollar dog. Put the creature in my chair. I'll

get an old shirt to wrap him in.' Mr. Waysmith, with fingers that were tender in their touch, lifted the pup to Grandpa's warmly padded but certainly not elegant chair. Then with a backward look at the sleeping creature, went slowly toward the front door. I wish I had someone in my own house to look after him,' he murmured to himself, but there's no one there that could be bothered with the little fellow. "'I will send you a book about dogs, Dilson,' he said aloud.

The little girl has native good sense, but she might as well learn something about scientific management. "'Don't send it, sir. Leave it at Johnson's bookstore, and I will call.' "'Can you walk now?' asked the merchant in surprise. "'Yes, sir, when there's no ice on the sidewalks, but I mostly drive. Hank's got a horse now.' "'I am glad to hear that,' said Mr. Waysmith heartily, "'and I'm also glad to find you looking so much better than when I was here last.'

Grandpa stared painfully at him, but there was no significance in Mr. Waysmith's glance, and the old man stood contentedly in the doorway and watched him going down the street. He hoped that his caller would meet none of the family. What a surprise he had for them, and he chuckled to himself. Tilda Jane would probably go into hysterics, and he hobbled back to the kitchen. End of chapter 9. Recording by John Brandon.