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Under the Lilacs, a novel by Louisa May Alcott

CHAPTER II. WHERE THEY FOUND HIS MASTER

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_ Neither spoke for a minute, astonishment being too
great for words; then, as by one impulse, both stole
up and touched the cake with a timid finger, quite
prepared to see it fly away in some mysterious and
startling manner. It remained sitting tranquilly in
the basket, however, and the children drew a long breath
of relief, for, though they did not believe in fairies,
the late performances did seem rather like witchcraft.

"The dog didn't eat it!"

"Sally didn't take it!"

"How do you know?"

"She never would have put it back."

"Who did?"

"Can't tell, but I forgive 'em."

"What shall we do now?" asked Betty, feeling as
if it would be very difficult to settle down to a quiet
tea-party after such unusual excitement.

"Eat that cake up just as fast as ever we can", and
Bab divided the contested delicacy with one chop of
the big knife, bound to make sure of her own share
at all events.

It did not take long, for they washed it down with
sips of milk, and ate as fast as possible, glancing
round all the while to see if the queer dog was
coming again.

"There! now I'd like to see any one take my cake
away," said Bab, defiantly crunching her half of the
pie-crust B.

"Or mine either," coughed Betty, choking over a
raisin that wouldn't go down in a hurry.

"We might as well clear up, and play there had
been an earthquake," suggested Bab, feeling that
some such convulsion of Nature was needed to explain
satisfactorily the demoralized condition of her
family.

"That will be splendid. My poor Linda was
knocked right over on her nose. Darlin' child, come
to your mother and be fixed," purred Betty, lifting
the fallen idol from a grove of chickweed, and tenderly
brushing the dirt from Belinda's heroically smiling
face.

"She'll have croup to-night as sure as the world.
We'd better make up some squills out of this sugar
and water," said Bab, who dearly loved to dose the
dollies all round.

"P'r'aps she will, but you needn't begin to sneeze
yet awhile. I can sneeze for my own children, thank
you, ma'am," returned Betty, sharply, for her usually
amiable spirit had been ruffled by the late occurrences.

"I didn't sneeze! I've got enough to do to talk
and cry and cough for my own poor dears, without
bothering about yours," cried Bab, even more ruffled
than her sister.

"Then who did? I heard a real live sneeze just
as plain as anything," and Betty looked up to the
green roof above her, as if the sound came from that
direction.

A yellow-bird sat swinging and chirping on the tall
lilac-bush, but no other living thing was in sight.
Birds don't sneeze, do they?" asked Betty, eying
little Goldy suspiciously.

"You goose! of course they don't."

"Well. I should just like to know who is laughing
and sneezing round here. "May be it is the dog,"
suggested Betty looking relieved.

"I never heard of a dog's laughing, except Mother
Hubbard's. This is such a queer one, may be he can,
though. I wonder where he went to?" and Bab took
a survey down both the side-paths, quite longing to
see the funny poodle again.

"I know where I 'm going to," said Betty, piling
the dolls into her apron with more haste than care.
"I'm going right straight home to tell Ma all about
it. I don't like such actions, and I 'm afraid to stay."

"I ain't; but I guess it is going to rain, so I shall
have to go any way," answered Bab, taking advantage
of the black clouds rolling up the sky, for she scorned
to own that she was afraid of any thing.

Clearing the table in a summary manner by catching up
the four corners of the cloth, Bab put the
rattling bundle into her apron, flung her children
on the top and pronounced herself ready to depart.
Betty lingered an instant to pick up and ends
that might be spoilt by the rain, and, when she turned
from taking the red halter off the knocker, two lovely
pink roses lay on the stone steps.

"Oh, Bab, just see! Here's the very ones we
wanted. Wasn't it nice of the wind to blow 'em
down? " she called out, picking them up and running
after her sister, who had strolled moodily along, still
looking about for her sworn foe, Sally Folsom.
The flowers soothed the feelings of the little girls,
because they had longed for them, and bravely resisted
the temptation to climb up the trellis and help
themselves, since their mother had forbidden such
feats, owing to a fall Bab got trying to reach a honeysuckle
from the vine which ran all over the porch.

Home they went and poured out their tale, to Mrs.
Moss's great amusement; for she saw in it only some
playmate's prank, and was not much impressed by
the mysterious sneeze and laugh.

"We'll have a grand rummage Monday, and find
out what is going on over there," was all she said.
But Mrs. Moss could not keep her promise, for on
Monday it still rained, and the little girls paddled off
to school like a pair of young ducks, enjoying every
puddle they came to, since India-rubber boots made
wading a delicious possibility. They took their
dinner, and at noon regaled a crowd of comrades with
an account of the mysterious dog, who appeared to
be haunting the neighborhood, as several of the other
children had seen him examining their back yards
with interest. He had begged of them, but to none
had he exhibited his accomplishments except Bab
and Betty; and they were therefore much set up, and
called him "our dog" with an air. The cake transaction
remained a riddle, for Sally Folsom solemnly
declared that she was playing tag in Mamie Snow's
barn at that identical time. No one had been near
the old house but the two children, and no one could
throw any light upon that singular affair.

It produced a great effect, however; for even
"teacher" was interested, and told such amazing
tales of a juggler she once saw, that doughnuts were
left forgotten in dinner-baskets, and wedges of pie
remained suspended in the air for several minutes at
a time, instead of vanishing with miraculous rapidity
as usual. At afternoon recess, which the girls had
first, Bab nearly dislocated every joint of her little
body trying to imitate the poodle's antics. She had
practised on her bed with great success, but the
wood-shed floor was a different thing, as her knees
and elbows soon testified.

"It looked just as easy as any thing; I don't see
how he did it," she said, coming down with a bump
after vainly attempting to walk on her hands.

"My gracious, there he is this very minute! " cried
Betty, who sat on a little wood-pile near the door.
There was a general rush, -- and sixteen small girls
gazed out into the rain as eagerly as if to behold
Cinderella's magic coach, instead of one forlorn
dog trotting by through the mud.

"Oh, do call him in and make him dance!" cried
the girls, all chirping at once, till it sounded as if a
flock of sparrows had taken possession of the shed.

"I will call him, he knows me," and Bab scrambled
up, forgetting how she had chased the poodle
and called him names two days ago.

He evidently had not forgotten, however; for,
though he paused and looked wistfully at them, he
would not approach, but stood dripping in the rain,
with his frills much bedraggled, while his tasselled
tail wagged slowly, and his pink nose pointed suggestively
to the pails and baskets, nearly empty now.

"He's hungry; give him something to eat, and
then he'll see that we don't want to hurt him,"
suggested Sally, starting a contribution with her last
bit of bread and butter.

Bab caught up her new pail, and collected all the
odds and ends; then tried to beguile the poor beast
in to eat and be comforted. But he only came as
far as the door, and, sitting up, begged with such
imploring eyes that Bab put down the pail and stepped
back, saying pitifully, --

"The poor thing is starved; let him eat all he
wants, and we won't touch him."

The girls drew back with little clucks of interest
and compassion; but I regret to say their charity
was not rewarded as they expected, for, the minute
the coast was clear, the dog marched boldly up,
seized the handle of the pail in his mouth, and was
off with it, galloping down the road at a great pace.

Shrieks arose from the children, especially Bab and
Betty, basely bereaved of their new dinner-pail; but
no one could follow the thief, for the Ben rang, and
in they went, so much excited that the boys rushed
tumultuously forth to discover the cause.
By the time school was over the sun was out, and
Bab and Betty hastened home to tell their wrongs and
be comforted by mother, who did it most effectually.

"Never mind, dears, I'll get you another pail, if
he doesn't bring it back as he did before. As it is
too wet for you to play out, you shall go and see
the old coach-house as I promised, Keep on your
rubbers and come along."

This delightful prospect much assuaged their woe,
and away they went, skipping gayly down the gravelled
path, while Mrs. Moss followed, with skirts well
tucked up, and a great bunch of keys in her hand;
for she lived at the Lodge, and had charge of the
premises.

The small door of the coach-house was fastened
inside, but the large one had a padlock on it; and
this being quickly unfastened, one half swung open,
and the little girls ran in, too eager and curious even
to cry out when they found themselves at last in
possession of the long-coveted old carriage. A dusty,
musty concern enough; but it had a high seat, a
door, steps that let down, and many other charms
which rendered it most desirable in the eyes of
children.

Bab made straight for the box and Betty for the
door; but both came tumbling down faster than they
went up, when from the gloom of the interior came
a shrill bark, and a low voice saying quickly, "Down,
Sancho! down!"

"Who is there?" demanded Mrs. Moss, in a stern
tone, backing toward the door with both children
clinging to her skirts.

The well-known curly white head was popped out
of the broken window, and a mild whine seemed to
say, "Don't be alarmed, ladies; we won't hurt you."
Come out this minute, or I shall have to come
and get you," called Mrs. Moss, growing very brave
all of a sudden as she caught sight of a pair of small,
dusty shoes under the coach.

"Yes, 'm, I'm coming, as fast as I can," answered a
meek voice, as what appeared to be a bundle of rags
leaped out of the dark, followed by the poodle, who
immediately sat down at the bare feet of his owner
with a watchful air, as if ready to assault any one who
might approach too near.

"Now, then, who are you, and how did you get
here?" asked Mrs. Moss, trying to speak sternly,
though her motherly eyes were already full of pity, as
they rested on the forlorn little figure before her. _

Read next: CHAPTER III. BEN

Read previous: CHAPTER I. A MYSTERIOUS DOG

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