Full text of "Tattine"
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" fattine succeeded in making her way across
the lawn, lack to the door, althougl) she
had four puppies in tow."
( Mrs CKarCej W. We)
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THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
981912A
ACTOR, LEJNOX AND
TibUtfN FOUNDATIONS
K 1938 L
*•»,.
AN OPEN LETTER TO THE CHILDREN.
They tell me that the books of this little series
sometimes find their way into several different lan-
guages; I have therefore no way of knowing whether
the eyes which are looking at this page this minute
are English or American or French or German eyes,
but, be that as it may, my little friend, this story intro-
duces us to one another, and now that we have met
perhaps you would like to know that the story itself is
mostly true. Doctor and Betsy are real dogs, and Black-
and-white a real cat. Every word about the puppies is
true. Mabel and Tattine are real little girls, and Rudolph,
you would find could you ask his Mother, is what is
known as "a real boy."
Indeed, if it were possible, all three of these real
children would like no better fun than to have you
spend a morning at Tattine's real camp, make real
maple-wax, over the camp-fire, and then eat just as
much of it as would really be good for you.
Yours very truly,
" RUTH OGDEN."
Oakdene, October 14th, 1898.
I.
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TROUBLE NO. I.
H ETHER you happen to be four
or five, or six, or seven, or even
older than that, no doubt you
know by this time that a great
many things need to be learned
in this world, everything, in fact,
and never more things than at
seven. At least, so thought little
Tattine, and what troubled her
the most was that some of the things seemed
quite wrong, and yet no one was able to
right them. All her little life Tattine's Mother
had been setting things straight for her, drying every tear,
and unravelling every tangle, so that Tattine was pretty down-
hearted the day she discovered that there were some things
that were quite beyond even her Mother's power to alter.
It was on a lovely June morning that Tattine made the
first of her unwelcome discoveries. She was feeling parti-
cularly happy too, until she made it. She was sitting up
in an apple-tree, sketching, and doing it very well. She had
6 TATTIXH.
taken only a few drawing-lessons but had taken to them
immensely, and now with one limb of the tree for a seat
and another one for an easel, she was working away at a
pretty chime tower, that stood on a neighbour's land.
Down on the grass beneath her Betsy and Doctor were
lying. Betsy was a dear, homely red-and-white Laverack
setter, and Doctor, black-and-white and better looking, was
her son. Doctor's beautiful grandmother Tadjie was lying,
alas ! under the grass instead of on it, not very far away.
It was a sad day for the dog world when Tadjie left it,
for although she was very old, she was very beautiful up to the
last with a glossy silky coat, a superbly feathered tail, and
with brown eyes so soft and entreating, they fairly made you
love her, whether you were fond of dogs or no.
Well, Tattine was sketching away and was quite ab-
sorbed in it, but Doctor, who was little more than a puppy,
thought it very dull. He lay with his head between his
paws, and, without moving a muscle, rolled his eyes
round and round, now gazing up at Tattine, and then at
his mother, trying to be happy though quiet. Finally he
stretched himself, got on his feet, cocked up his ears, and
came and stood in front of Betsy, and although not a
sound was heard, he said, so that Betsy perfectly under-
stood him, " I can't stand this any longer. If you have
any love for me do please come for a run."
Then Betsy took one long stretch and with motherly
self-sacrifice reluctantly got up, prepared to humor this
lively boy of" hers. Suddenly Doctor craned his head high
in the air, and gave a little sniff, and then Betsy craned
her head and sniffed. Then they stole as stealthily away
as though stepping upon eggs, and Tattine never knew
that they had gone. It was no stealthy treading very
long, however. Xo sooner had they crossed the roadway
than they made sure of the scent they thought they had
•
. .
TATTINE. 7
discovered, and made one wild rush down through the
sumach and sweet-fern to the ravine. In a few moments
it was one wild rush up again right to the foot of Tattine's
apple-tree, and Tattine looked down to see Doctor— oh, could
she believe her two blue eyes ! — with a dear little rabbit clinched
firmly between his teeth, and his mother (think of it, his
mother !) actually standing proudly by and wildly waving
her tail from side to side, in the most delighted manner
possible. As for Tattine, she simply gave one horrified little
scream and was down from the tree in a flash, while the
scream fortunately brought Maggie hurrying from the house,
and as Maggie was Doctor's confidential friend (owing to
certain choice little morsels, dispensed from the butler's-
pantry window with great regularity three times a day),
he at once, at her command, relaxed his hold on the little
jack-rabbit. The poor little thing was still breathing, breath-
ing indeed with all his might and main, so that his heart
thumped against his little brown sides with all the regula-
rity of a Rider Engine. Tattine's first thought was for the
rabbit, and she held it close to her, stroking it with one little
brown trembling hand and saying, " There! there! Hush, you
little dear; you're safe now, don't be frightened ! Tattine
wouldn't hurt you for the world." Her next thought was
for Doctor, and she turned on him with a torrent of abuse,
that ought to have made the hair of that young M.D.
stand on end. " Oh, you cruel, cruel dog ! whatever made
you do such a thing as this ? I never dreamt it of you,
never." At this Betsy's tail dropped between her legs, for
she was a coward at heart, but Doctor held his ground,
his tail standing on end, as his hair should have done, and
his eyes all the while fairly devouring the little rabbit.
" And the worst of it," continued Tattine, " is that no
matter how sorry you may feel " (Betsy was the only one
who showed any signs of sorrow, and she was more scared
8 TATTIXE.
than sorry), "no matter how sorry 3-011 may feel, that
will not mend things. You do not know where this
baby lived, and who are its father and mother, and like
as not it is too young to live at all a\va3r from them and
will die," and Tattine raised one plump little hand and
gave Doctor a slap that at least made him "turn tail," and
slink rather doggedh7 awa3^ to his own particular hole under
the laundry steps. And now it was time to find Mamma-
high time, for it seemed to Tattine she would choke with
all the feelings, sorrowful and angnr, welling up within her.
Mamma was not far afield — that is, she was very near, at her
desk in the cosy little alcove of the upstairs hall-way, and
Tattine soon found her.
" Now, Mamma," she asked excitedly, " did you know
that Bets\r or Doctor would do such a thing as this ? "
The trembling little rabbit in Tattine's hands showed
what was meant by this.
Mrs. Gerald paused a moment, then she said reluctantly,
"Yes, Tattine, I did."
" Have the3r done it before, Mamma ? "
" I am sorry to say the\r have."
" Have \Tou seen them bring struggling rabbits dangling
in their mouths right up to the house here, Mamma ? "
Mrs. Gerald merely shook her head. She felt so sorry
to have to own to such a sight.
"\Vhy did I never know it, Mamma?"
" You have never chanced to be on the spot, dear,
when' it happened, and I was in no hurry to tell you
anything that I knew would make you sad."
"I think it would have been better to tell me. It's
awlul to find such a thing out suddenly about dogs )rou've
trusted, and to think how good and gentle they look when
they come and put their heads in your lap to be petted,
just as though they would not hurt a fly; but then, of course,
TATTINE.
anyone who has eyes knows that they do hurt flies,
snapping at them all day long, and just for the fun of it
too, not because they need them for food, as birds do.
Mamma, I don't believe there's anything meaner than a
Laverack setter. Still, Tadjie would never have done such a
thing, I know/' Mrs. Gerald was silent, and Tattine, expecting
her to confirm what she had said, grew a little suspicious.
" Would Tadjie, Mamma?" with a directness that would not
admit of indirectness.
" Yes, Tattine ; Tadjie would. She was trained to hunt
before ever she was given to Papa, and so were her an-
cestors before her. That is why Doctor and Betsy, who
have never been trained to hunt, go wild over the rabbits.
They have inherited the taste."
io TATTINE.
" Trained to hunt," said Tattine thoughtfully. " Do you mean
that men just went to work to teach them to be so cruel ? "
" Well, I suppose in a way setters are natural hunters,
Tattine, but then their training has doubtless a great deal
to do with it, but I want to tell you something that I
think will give you just a grain of comfort. I read the
other day that Sir John Franklin, the great Arctic explorer,
who almost lost his life in being attacked by some huge
animal — it must have been a bear, I think — says that the
animal when he first gets you in his teeth gives you such
a shake that it paralyses your nerves — that is, it benumbs
all your feelings, so that, strange as it may seem, you
really do not suffer. So let us hope that it was that way
with this little rabbit."
" But there's a little blood here on one side, Mamma."
"That doesn't always prove suffering either, Tattine.
Soldiers are sometimes wounded without ever knowing it
until they see a little sign of blood somewhere."
Tattine listened attentively to all this, and was in a
measure comforted. It seemed that Mamma was still able
to better things, even though not able to set everything
perfectly right. " Now," Tattine said, with a little sigh of
relief, " I think I will try and see what I can do for
Bunny. Perhaps he would first like a drink," so down-
stairs she went and, putting some milk in a shallow tea-cup,
she dipped Bunny's nose in it, and it seemed to her as though
he did take a little of it. Then she trudged up to the
garret for a box, and, putting a layer of cotton-batting in
the bottom, laid Bunny in one corner. Then she went
to the garden and pulled a leaf or two of the youngest,
greenest lettuce, and put it right within reach of Bunny's
nose, and a little saucer of water beside it. Then she
went down to tell the gardener's little boy all about the
sorrowful thing that had happened.
TATTINE. ii
The next morning Bunny was still breathing, but the
lettuce was un-nibbled; he had not moved an inch, and he
was trembling like a leaf. " Mamma," she called upstairs,
"I think I'll put Bun in the sun" (she was trying not to be
too down-hearted); "he seems to be a little chilly." Then
she sat herself down in the sun to watch him. Soon Bunny
ceased to tremble. " Patrick," she called to the old man who
was using the lawn mower, " is this little rabbit dead ? "
" Yes, miss, shure," taking the little thing gently in his hand.
"Very well," she answered quietly. Tattine used those
two little words very often ; they meant that she accepted
the situation, if you happen to know what that means. "Xow
I think I will not trouble Mamma about it," she said to herself
thoughtfully, so she went to the closet under the stairs, got
a little empty box she knew was there, and, taking it out of
doors, she put the little rabbit in it, and then trudged down
to the tool-house for her spade and rake.
" Bunny is dead, Joey," she called to the gardener's little
boy as she came back. "Come help me bury him," and so
Joey trotted behind her to the spot already selected. " We
must make this hole good and deep," she explained (Joey
stood looking on in wide-eyed wonder), "for if Doctor and
Betsy would kill a little live rabbit, there is no telling but
they would dig up a dead one." So the hole was made at
least four inches deep, Bunny was buried in it, and the earth,
with Joey's assistance, stamped down hard, but afterwards it
was loosened somewhat to plant a little wild-wood plant atop
of the tiny grave. "Xow, Joey, you wait here till I go bring
something for a tombstone," Tattine directed, and in a second
she was back again with the cover of a box in one hand and
a red crayon in the other. Sitting flat upon the grass, she
printed on the cover in rather irregular letters :-
BORX — I don't know when. DIED — June i/th.
Laverack setters not allowed.
12
TATTINE.
This she put securely into place, while Joey raked up
a little about the spot, and they left the little rabbit grave
looking very neat and tidy. The next morning Tattine ran
out to see how the little wild-wood plant was growing, and
then she stood with her arms akimbo in blank aston-
ishment. The little grave had disappeared. She kicked aside
the loose earth, and saw that box and Bunny were both
gone, and, not content with that, they had partially chewed
up the tombstone, which lay upon its face a little distance
away. They, of course, meant Betsy and Doctor. " There
was no use in my putting: 'Laverack setters not allowed,"
she said to herself sorrowfully, and she ran off to tell her
Mother of this latest tragedy.
" Yes, I know, Tattine dear," said Mrs. Gerald, in the
first pause ; " there is neither pity nor mercy in the heart
of a setter when he is on the scent of a rabbit, alive or
dead— but, Tattine, don't forget they have their good sides,
Doctor and Betsy; just think how fond they are of you
and me. Why, the very sight of us always makes them
beat a tattoo with their tails."
" Yes, I know, Mamma, but I can't feel somehow that
tattoos with their tails make up for killing rabbits with
their teeth."
»1T7 w ••.<•
CHAPTER II.
A MAPLE-WAX MORNING.
A TEAM came rushing in between the gate-posts of
"^^ the stone wall, and it looked like a run-away. They
were riderless and driverless, and if there had been any
harness, there was not a vestige of it to be seen ; still, they
kept neck and neck, which means in horsey language side
by side, and on they came in the maddest fashion. Tattine
stood on the front porch and watched them in high glee,
and not a bit afraid was she, though they were coming
straight in her direction. When they reached her they
considerately came to a sudden stop, else there is no doubt
whatever but she would have been tumbled over.
"Well, you are a team," laughed Tattine, and they
laughed back, "Yes, we know we are," and sat clown on the
step on either side of her. Of course, that would have been
a remarkable thing for some teams to do, but not for this
one, for, as you can guess, they were just two little people,
Mabel and Rudolph, but they were a perfect team all the
same; everybody said so, and what everybody meant was
this — that whatever Rudolph "was up to," Mabel was "up
to" also, and vice versa. They traveled together finely, right
1 4 TATTIXE.
"up on the bit" all the time. It would have been easier
for those who had charge of them if one or the other
had held back now and then, and set a slower pace, but
as that was not their nature and could not be helped,
everybody tried to make the best of them, and everybody
loved them. Tattine did not see how she could ever have
lived without them, for they were almost as much a brother
and sister to her as to each other. This morning they had
come over by invitation for what they called a Maple-wax
morning, and that was exactly what it was, and if you have
never had one of your own, wait till you read about this one
of Tattine's, and then give your dear Mamma no peace until
you have had one, either in your kitchen in town, or in
_/ J
the woods out of town, which is better. One thing is
necessary to its complete enjoyment, however : you must
have a "sweet tooth," but as most little people cut that
particular tooth very early, probably you are among the
fortunate number.
"Well, I don't see what we are sitting here for," said
Mabel at last.
"Neither do I," said Tattine; "I was only giving you
a chance to get a little breath. You did not seem to have
much left."
"Xo more we had," laughed Rudolph, who was still
taking little swallows and drawing an occasional long breath,
as people do when they have been exercising very vigor-
ously. "But if everything is read)*," he added, "let us
start."
"Well, everything is ready," said Tattine quite com-
placently, as she led the way to the back piazza, where
"everything" was lying in a row. There was the maple
sugar itself, two pounds of it on a plate, two large kitchen
spoons, a china cup, two sheets of brown wrapping-
paper, two or three newspapers, a box of matches, a pail
TATTJNE. 15
of clear spring water, a hammer, an ice-pick, and last, and
most important of all, a granite-ware kettle.
"Now if you'll carry these," explained Tattine, "I'll
run and tell Philip to bring the ice," so Rudolph and
Mabel "loaded up" and marched down to the camp, and
Tattine disappeared in the direction of the ice-house. The
camp was not far away, and consisted of a cosy little "A"'
tent, a hammock hung between two young chestnuts, and
a fire-place made of a circle of stones on the ground, with
a crane hanging above it. The crane was quite an elabo-
rate contrivance, for which Joseph the gardener was to be
thanked.
The long branch on which the pot hung was pivoted, if
you know what that is, on an upright post fastened firmly in
the ground, and in such a way that you could "higher it,"
as Tattine said, or lower it, or swing it clear of the fire
on either side. At the end of the branch away from the
fire hung a chain, with a few blocks tied into it, for a weight,
so that you lifted the weight with one hand when you
wished to change the position of the branch with the
other, and then let it rest on the ground again at the spot
where you wanted the pole to stay. You see, the great
advantage of this was that, when you wished to see how
things were going on inside of the kettle, or to stop its boiling
instantly — you could just swing it away from the fire in no
time, and not run the risk of burning face or hands, or petti-^
coats, if you belong to the petticoat family.
"Xow," panted Tattine, for it was her turn to be
breathless with running, " I'll break the sugar if you t\vo
will make the fire, but Rudolph's to light it and he's the
only one who is 'to lean over it and put the wood on when
it's needed. Mamma says there is to be a very strict rule
about that, because skirts and fluffy hair like mine and
Mabel's are very dangerous about a fire," and then Tattine
1 6 TATTINE.
proceeded to roll the maple sugar in the brown paper so
as to have two or three thicknesses about it, and then,
laying it upon a flat stone, began to pound and break it
with the hammer.
" Yes," said Rudolph, on his knees on the ground, and
making balls of newspaper for the foundation of the fire ;
"it's lucky for Mabel and me that fire is one thing about
which we can be trusted."
"I shouldn't wonder if it's the only thing," laughed
Tattine, whereupon Mabel toppled her over on the grass
by way of punishment.
"No, but honest!" continued Rudolph, "I have just
been trained and trained about fire. I kno^ it's an awfully
dangerous thing. It's just foolhardy to run any sort of
risk with it, and it's wise when you make a fire in the
open air like this, to stand on the same side as the wind
comes from, even if you haven't any skirts or fluffy hair
to catch."
"Here's some more wood, grandfather," said Mabel
solemnly, dumping an armful down at his side; "I should
think you were eighty to hear you talk," and then Mabel
had her punishment by being chased down the path and
plumped down rather hard in the veriest tangle of brambles and
briars. It chanced, however, that her corduroy skirt furnished
all the protection needed from the sharp little thorns, so that,
,like " Brer Rabbit," she called out exultingly, "'Born and bred
in a briar-patch, Brer Rudolph, born and bred in a briar-
patch,'" and could have sat there quite comfortably, no
one knows how long, but that she heard the maple sugar go
tumbling into the kettle. And then she heard Tattine say,
"A cup of water to two pounds, isn't it?" Then she
heard the water go splash on top of the maple sugar. Now
she could stand it no longer, and, clearing the briars at
one bound, was almost back at the camp with another.
TATTINE. 17
By this time the fire was blazing away finely, and the
sugar, with the help of an occasional stirring from the long-
handled spoon in Rudolph's hand, soon dissolved. Dis-
solving sometimes seems to be almost a day's journey from
boiling, and the children were rather impatient for that stage
to be reached. At last, however, Rudolph announced ex-
citedly, " It boils, it boils ! and now I mustn't leave it
for a minute. More wood, Mabel ! don't be so slow, and,
Tattine, hurry Philip up with that ice," but Philip was seen
at that moment bringing a large piece of ice in a wheel-
barrow, so Tattine was saved that journey, and devoted
the time instead to spreading out one of the pieces of
wrapping-paper, to keep the ice from the ground, because
of the dead leaves and "things" that were likely to cling
to it.
"Now break off a good-sized piece, Tattine," Rudolph
directed, "and put it on a piece of paper near the fire,"
but Tattine knew that was the next thing to do, so what
was the use of Rudolph's telling her? It happens quite
frequently that people who are giving directions give too
many by far.
"Now, Mabel," continued the drum-major, "will you
please bring some more wood, and will you please put
your mind on it and keep bringing it ? These little twigs
that make the best fire burn out in a twinkling, please
notice," but Mabel did not hurry so very much for the next
armful; since she could see for herself there was no great
need for haste. Rudolph was simply getting excited, but
then the making of maple -wax is such a very responsible
undertaking, he could not be blamed for that. You need
to stop its boiling at precisely the right moment, else it
suddenly reaches the point where, when you cool it, it
grows brittle like "taffy," and then good-bye to maple-
wax for that kettleful. So Rudolph, every half-minute, kept
3
i8 TATTINE.
dripping little streams of the boiling sugar from the spoon
upon the piece of ice, and Tattine and Mabel kept testing
it with their fingers and tongues, until both at last ex-
claimed in one and the same breath, "It's done! it's done!
Lift it off the fire quickly; it's just right." Just right means
when the sugar hardens in a few seconds, or in a little
more than half a minute, into a delicious consistency like —
well, just like maple-wax, for there is nothing else in the
world that I know of with which to compare it. Then
the children seated themselves around the great cake of
ice, and Rudolph, with the kettle on the ground beside
him, tipped against a log of wood at just the right angle,
continued to be master of ceremonies, and dipped spoonful
after spoonful of the syrup, and let it trickle over the ice
in queer fantastic shapes or in little, thin round discs like
griddle-cakes. The children ate and ate, and fortunately it
seems, for some reason, to be the most harmless sweet that
can be indulged in by little people.
"Well, I've had enough," remarked Rudolph at the ex-
piration of say a quarter of an hour, "but isn't it wonderful
that anything so delicious can just trickle out of a tree?"
his unmannerly little tongue the while making the circuit
of his lips in search of any lingering traces of sweetness.
"Trickle out of a tree!" exclaimed astonished Tattine.
" Why, yes, don't you know that's the way the)*- make
maple sugar? In the spring, about April, when the sap
begins to run up into the maple-trees, and; often while the
snow is still on the ground, they what they call tap the
tree ; they drive a sort of little spout right into the tree
and soon the sap begins to ooze out and drop into
buckets that are placed to catch it. Afterwards they boil
it down in huge kettles made for the purpose. They call
it sugaring off, and it must be great fun."
"Not half so much fun, I should think, as sugaring
TATTINE. 19
down," laughed Mabel, with her right hand placed signi-
ficantly where stomachs are supposed to be.
"And now I am going to run up to the house," ex-
plained Tattine, getting stiffly up from a rather cramped
position, "for three or four plates, and Rudolph, you break
off some pieces of ice the right size for them, and we will
make a little plateful from what is left for each one up
at the house, else I should say we were three little greedies.
And Mabel, while I am gone you commence to clear up."
"Well, you are rather cool, Tattine," said Mabel, but
she obediently set to work to gather things together.
As you and I cannot be a bit of help in that direction,
and have many of a clearing-np of our own to do, I propose
that we lose not a minute in running away from that little
camp, particularly as we have not had so much as a taste
of the delicious wax they've been making.
CHAPTER III.
A SET OF SETTERS.
TT was a great bird-year at Oakdene. Never had there been
so many. The same dear old Phoebe-birds were back,
building under the eaves of both the front and back piazzas.
The robins, as usual, were everywhere. The Maryland yellow-
throats were nesting in great numbers in the young growth of
woods on the hill of the ravine, and ringing out their hammer-
like note in the merriest manner; a note that no one under-
stood until Dr. Van Dyke told us, in his beautiful little poem,
that it is ''witchery, witchery, witchery," and now we wonder
that we could have been so stupid as not to have discovered
it was exactly that, long ago. But the glory of the summer
were the orioles and the scarlet tanagers ; the orioles with
their marvellous notes, and the tanagers in their scarlet golf-
ing coats glinting here and there in the sunshine. Nests
TATTINE. 21
everywhere, and Tattine on one long voyage of discovery,
until she knew where at least twenty little bird families were
going to crack-shell their way into life. But there was one
little family of whose whereabouts she knew nothing, nor any-
one else for that matter, until "Hark, what was that ? " -Mabel
and Rudolph and Tattine were running across the end of the
porch, and it was Rudolph who brought them to a standstill.
"It's puppies under the piazza, that's what it is," de-
clared Tattine; "where ever did they come from, and how
ever do you suppose they got there ? "
"I think it's a good deal more important to know how
you'll ever get them out," answered Rudolph, who was of
a practical turn of mind.
"I'll tell you what," said Tattine thoughtfully, "I
shouldn't wonder if they belong to Betsy. I've seen her
crowding herself through one of the air-holes under the
piazza several times lately," whereupon the children hurried
to peer through the air-hole. Nothing was to be seen, how-
ever, for the piazza floor was not more than a foot and a
half from the ground, and it was filled with all sorts of
weeds that flourished without sunshine. Still the little puppy
cries were persistently wafted out from some remote corner,
and, pulling off his jacket, Rudolph started to crawl in and
investigate. It did not seem possible that he could make
his way, for the place was not high enough for him even
to crawl on his hands and knees, and he had rather to
worm himself along on his elbows in quite indescribable
fashion. Still, Tattine and Mabel were more than ready to
have him try, and waited patiently, bending over with their
hands upon their knees, and gazing in through the weed-
grown hole in breathless, excited fashion.
"I believe I'll have to give it up," Rudolph called back;
"the cries seem as far off as ever and I'm all but scratched
to pieces."
22 TATTINE.
"Oh, don't! don't!" cried Tattine and Mabel, in one
breath, and Mabel added, "We must know what they are
and where they are. I shall go in myself if you come out."
"Well, you wouldn't go more than three feet then, I
can tell you," and Rudolph was right about that. It was
only because he hated to give the thing up, even more
than the girls hated to have him, that made him persevere.
"Well, here they are at last!" he cried exultingly, a few
moments later; "one, two, three, four of them, perfect little
beauties too. And they must belong to Betsy; they're just
like her."
"Bring one out, bring one out!" called both the children,
and fairly dancing with delight.
" Bring out your grandmother ! It's all I can manage
to bring myself out, without holding on to a puppy."
"Very well," Tattine called back, with her usual instant
acceptance of the inevitable, "but I know what," and then
she was off in a flash, with Mabel following closely to find
out what what might be.
It was Joseph the gardener whom Tattine wanted, and she
found him where she thought she would, killing potato-
bugs in the kitchen-garden.
"What do you think, Joseph? Betsy has a beautiful
set of little setters under the piazza. Come quick, please !
and see how we can get them out."
Joseph followed obediently. "Guess we'll have to let
them stay there till they crawl out," said Joseph; "Betsy'll
take as good care of them there as anywhere," whereupon
the children looked the picture of misery and despair. At
this moment Rudolph emerged from the hole a mass of
grass and dirt stains, and both Mabel and Tattine thought
he had been pretty plucky, though quite too much preoccupied
to tell him so, but Rudolph happily felt himself repaid for
hardships endured, in the delight of his discovery.
TATTINE. 23
" It will be a month before they'll have sense enough
to crawl out," he remarked to Joseph, "and they're wedged
in between some old planks in very uncomfortable fashion.
They look like fine little fellows too. I think we ought
to manage in some way to get them out."
"And it would be bad if any of them died there,"
said Joseph, rubbing his head and still ruminating on the
subject; "very bad. Well, we'll have to see what we can
do about it."
"Will you see right away?" urged Tattine eagerly.
"May as well, I reckon," and Joseph walked off in the
direction of the tool-house, but to Tattine's regret evidently
did not appreciate any need for extreme haste.
In a little while he was back again with Patrick, and
both of them were carrying spades.
24 TATTJNE.
"There's only one way to do it," he explained, as they
set to wrork; "you see, the pillars of this porch rest on a
stone foundation, so as to support the rooms above, and
wre'll have to dig out three or four of the large stones and
then dig a sort of trench to wherever the puppies are,"
and Rudolph was able of course to indicate the exact spot
to which the trench must lead. It was the work of an
hour to excavate the foundation-stones, and an additional
half-hour to dig the trench. Meantime Betsy appeared upon
the scene, and, evidently appreciating what was going on,
stood about and superintended matters with quite an im-
portant air. Rudolph clambered in and dug the last few feet
of the trench, because it did not need to be as large for
him as for Joseph and Patrick, and then one at a time
he brought the dear little puppies out, and Mabel and
Tattine took turns in appropriating them, while Betsy eyed
them proudly but withal a little anxiously. And they were
dear ; as prettily marked as their beautiful grandmother Tadjie,
and too cunning for words.
"You have made us a great deal of trouble, Betsy,"
said Tattine, "but they are such beauties we forgive you,"
whereat Betsy looked up so affectionately that Tattine
added, " and perhaps some day I'll forgive you about that
rabbit, since Mamma says it's natural for you to hunt them."
But Betsy, indifferent creature, did not care a fig about all
that; her only care was to watch her little puppies stowed
away one by one on fresh sweet-smelling straw, in the same
kennel where Doctor and his brothers and sisters had en-
joyed their puppy-hood, and then to snuggle up in a round
ball close beside them. They were Betsy's puppies for a
certainty. There had been no doubt of that from the first
glimpse Rudolph gained of them in their dark little hole
under the porch. But the next morning came and then
what do you suppose happened ? A very weak little puppy
TATTINE. 25
cry came from under the porch. Another puppy, that was
what it meant, and Joseph was very much out of patience,
for the trench had been filled up and the foundation-stones
carefully replaced.
"Rudolph ought to have made sure how many there
were," he said rather growlily.
"But, Joseph, this puppy cry comes from another place-
way over here, it seems to me," and Tattine ran to a spot
on the porch several yards from that under which the others
had been found ; " I believe it must have been a cleverer
little puppy than the others, and crawled away by itself to
see what the world was like, and that is why Rudolph
missed finding it."
Joseph put his hand to his ear and, listening carefully,
concluded that Tattine was right. " Xow I'll tell you what
I am going to do," he said; "I can make just a little hole,
large enough for a puppy to get through, without taking
out a foundation-stone, and I'm going to make it here, near
where the cry seems to come from. Then I am going to
tie Betsy to this pillar of the porch, and I believe she'll
have sense enough to try and coax the little fellow out,
and if he is such an enterprising little chap as you think
he'll have sense enough to come out."
It seemed a good plan. Betsy was brought, and Tattine
sat down to listen and watch. Betsy, hearing the little
cries, began at once to coax, giving little sharp barks at
regular intervals, and trying to make the hole larger with
her paws.
Tattine's ears, which were dear little shells of ears to
look at, and very sharp little ears to hear with, thought the
cries sounded a little nearer, and now a little nearer; then
she was sure of it, and Betsy and she, both growing
more excited every minute, kept pushing each other away
from the hole the better to look into it, until at last two
26
TATTINE.
little beads of eyes glared out at them, and then it was an
easy thing for Tattine to reach in and draw out the prettiest
puppy of all.
" Why didn't you tell us there were five, Betsy, and
save us all this extra trouble ? " and Tattine hurried away to
deposit number five in the kennel ; but Betsy looked up
with the most reproachful look imaginable as though to say,
"How much talking could you do if you had to do it
all with your eyes and a tail ? "
CHAPTER IV.
MORE TROUBLES.
ATRICK KIRK was raking the
gravel on the road into pretty
criss-cross patterns, and Tattine
was pretending to help him with her
own garden rake. Patrick was one of
Tattine's best friends and she loved to
work with him and to talk to him. Patrick
was a fine old Irishman, there was no
doubt whatever about that, faithful and
conscientious to the last degree.
Every morning he would drive
over in his old buggy from his
little farm in the Raritan Valley,
in abundant time to begin work
on the minute of seven, and not
until the minute of six would he
lay aside spade or rake and turn
his steps to his old horse tied under the apple-trees. But the
most attractive thing about Patrick was his genial, kindly
smile, a smile that said, as plainly as words, that he had
found life very comfortable and pleasant, and that he was
28 TATTINE.
still more than content with it, notwithstanding his back was
bowed with days' work, month in and month out, ever
spade and hoe. And so Tattine was fond of Patrick for
what, child though she was, she knew him to be, and
they spent many a delightful hour in each other's com-
pany.
" Patrick," said Tattine, on this particular morning, when
they were raking away side by side, " does Mrs. Kirk ever
have a dav at home ? " and Tattine glanced at Patrick a
J *— '
little mischievously, doubting if he would know just what
she meant.
" Shure she has all her days at home, Miss Tattine,
save on a holiday, when we go for a day's drive to some
of our neighbours, but I doubt if I'm catching just your
meaning."
" Oh, I mean does she have a day sometimes, when
she gets ready for company and expects to have people
come and see her, the way ladies do in town ? "
" Well, no, miss, she don't do that, for tin to one
nobody'd come if she did. We belongs to the workin'
classes, my old woman and I, and we has no toime for
the doing of the loikes of city people."
"I'm sorry she hasn't a day," said Tattine, " because-
because—
" If ye're meaning that you'd like ter give us a call,
miss," said Patrick, beginning to take in the situation, "shure
she could have a day as aisy as the foinest lady, and
proud indade she'd be to have it with your little self for
the guest of honour."
" I would like to bring Rudolph and Mabel, Patrick."
" And what should hinder, miss ? "
"And I'd like to have an all-day-at-home, say from
eleven in the morning until five in the afternoon, and not
make just a little call, Patrick."
" • ''Patrick,' mid- 'I at tine, . . . 'does J^Vj.
ever have a (Lay at home '.'
TATTINE.
"Of course, miss, a regular long day, with your donkey
put into a stall in the barn, and yourselves and the donkey
biding for the best dinner we can give ye."
"And I'd like to have you there, Patrick, because we
might not feel at home just with Mrs. Kirk."
" Well, I don't know, miss ; do you s'pose your Father
could spare me ? " and Patrick thought a little regretfully of
the dollar and a half he would insist upon foregoing if he took
a day off, but at the same moment he berated himself
soundly for having such an un-
generous thought. "Indade, miss, if
you'll manage for me to
have the day I'll gladly
stay to home to make
ye welcome."
•/
"Then it's settled,
Patrick, and we'll make it
the very first day Papa
can spare you." They had
raked down, while they had been having
this conversation, to close proximity
to two pretty rows of apple-trees that
had been left on the front lawn, a
reminder of the farm that " used to
of the trees brought a troubled look
"Patrick," she said ruefully, "do you
the nests in these trees have been
? Four or five of them are empty
Have you an idea who could do such a thing ? "
" Yes, I have an idea," and Patrick rested his hands
upon the handle of his rake and looked significantly towards
the barn; " somebody who lives in the barn, I'm thinkin'."
" Why, Joseph would not do it, nor Philip the groom,
and little Joey is too small to climb these trees."
be," and the sight
into Tattine's face,
know that some of
robbed of their eggs
now
TATTINE.
" It's something smaller than Joey, miss. Whisht now,
and see if she's not up to mischief this minute."
Tattine's little black-and-white kitten, whose home was
in the barn, had been frisking about her feet during all the
raking, but as the raking came under the apple-trees, other
thoughts came into her little black-and-white head, and
there she was stealthily clawing her way up the nearest
tree. Tattine stood aghast, but Patrick's "whisht" kept her
32 TATTINE.
still for a moment, while the cat made its way along one
of the branches. Tattine knowing well the particular nest
she was seeking, made one bound for her with her rake,
and with such a scream as certainly to scare little Black-
and-white out of at least one of the nine lives to which
she is supposed to be entitled. But pussy was too swift
and swiftly scrambled to the very topmost twig that would
hold her weight, w^hile Tattine danced about in helpless
rage on the grass beneath the tree. "Tattine is having a
fit," thought little Black-and-white, scared half to death
and quite ready to have a little fit of her own, to judge
from her wild eyes and bristling tail.
Tattine's futile rage was followed in a few minutes by,
" Oh, Patrick, I never dreamt it was Kittie. Has she been
trained to do it, do you think ? "
"Oh, no, miss; it just comes natural to cats and kittens
to prey upon birds and birds' nests."
"Patrick," said Tattine solemnly, "there is not going
to be any four-legged thing left for me to love. I am
done with Betsy and Doctor, and now I'm done with
Black-and-white. I \vonder if Mamma can make it seem
any better," and then she turned her steps to the house
in search of comfort, but she had gone only half-way when
the coachman, who was waiting at the door with the little
grey mare and the phaeton, motioned to her to come
quietly. Tattine saw at a glance what had happened, and
sped swiftly back to Patrick. " Keep Black-and-white up
the tree," she said, in a breathless whisper; "don't let her
go near the nest, and don't let her come down for the
world. The little Phcebe-birds have lit."
"All right, miss," not at all understanding the situation,
but more than willing to obey orders. Tattine was in such
haste to get back to the house that she hardly heard his
answer. What she had tried to tell him was that the five
TATTINE. 33
little fledglings, crowded into the tiny nest under the eaves
of the porch, had taken it into their heads to try their
first flight at that precise moment, and there they were
perched on the shafts of the phaeton, lighting, as it seemed,
on the first thing they came to, while the father and
mother birds were flying about in frantic anxiety to see
them in such a perilous situation. How could those tiny
little untrained claws keep their hold on that big round,
slippery shaft, and if the carriage started down they would
surely go under the wheels or under the feet of that mer-
ciless little grey mare. But the little fledglings were in better
hands than they knew, for, with the exceptions of Betsy,
Doctor, and Black-and-white, every living thing at Oakdene
was kind to every other living thing.
"Whoa, girlie; whoa, girlie," had been Patrick's quieting
words to Lizzie, and then when Tattine came hurrying that
way he had motioned her to come quietly for fear of
frightening them. Then, as you know, Tattine flew to make
sure that treacherous Black-and-white was kept close guarded,
and then back she flew again to the aid of the little birds
themselves. Softly she drew nearer and nearer, saying over
gently, "Whoa, Lizzie! dear little birdies!" until she came
very near and then she 'put out one hand towards them.
That was enough for the fledglings. Refreshed by their
rest on the shafts, they flapped their tiny wings and fluttered
up to the anxious mother bird on the branches above them,
wholly unconscious that they had been in any peril what-
soever.
" And Black-and-white would have killed them, every one,
if she had had the chance," thought Tattine ; " oh, if I
only knew how to teach her a lesson ! "
CHAPTER V.
THE KIRKS' "AT HOME."
T3ARNEY the donkey was harnessed, and Tattine sat in
the little donkey-cart waiting, and as she waited she was
saying aloud, "What, Grandma Luty ? Yes, Grandma Luty.
No, Grandma Luty. What did you say, Grandma Luty?"
and this she said in the most polite little tone imaginable.
Meantime Rudolph and Mabel, discovering that Tattine
did not see them, came stealing along under cover of the
apple-trees.
" Whatever is Tattine doing, talking to herself like
that ? " whispered Mabel, and then they came near enough
to hear what she was saying.
"She's out of her head/' said Rudolph, when they had
listened some moments, and then Tattine turned round and
saw them.
" No, I'm not out of my head at all," she laughed ; "I
was just practising a little while I waited for you."
"Practising your grandmother" which as you have ob-
served was a pet expression with Rudolph, whenever he
TATTINE. 35
wished to intimate that he considered your remarks to be
simply absurd.
"Yes, that's exactly it," Tattine answered good-naturedly.
" I am practising my Grandmother. Grandma Luty, that's
Mamma's mother, has come to make us a visit, and Mamma
has discovered that I'm not very polite to old people.
Children used to be taught, you know, to say 'Yes'm/ and
'Yes, sir,' but now that is not considered nice at all, and
you must always say the name of the person you are
speaking to, especially if they are older people, to whom
you ought to be respectful," and Tattine sounded quite like
a little grandmother herself as she talked.
"Yes, we know, and it's an awful bother," sighed Ru-
dolph. "We're fairly nagged about it, Mabel and I, but
Mother says she's going to keep it up until we always do
it. Perhaps we would get on faster if we practised by
ourselves as you do, but really, Tattine, it did sound as
though you were out of your head, to hear you saying all
those sentences over to yourself."
While the children were having this little talk about
politeness, Rudolph and Mabel had climbed into the wagon,
and the donkey, acting upon a suggestion from Tattine's
whip, had started down the roadway. The trio were off for
Patrick's, for this was to be the day of the Kirks' "At
Home," and, dressed in his Sunday-best, Patrick that very
minute was waiting at his door to receive them.
Full two miles lay ahead of the children, and though
Barney fortunately seemed to be in the mood for doing his
best, Patrick would still have a full half-hour to wait. At last
the donkey-cart drew up at the Kirks' door and two happy
old people welcomed three happy little people into their
comfortable little home. It would take another book, the
size of this one, to tell you all the doings of that August
day. First they went into the house and laid their wraps
^ A.
"tO
So r->j
1J Q>
to^, -fo
n? £
o
*SJ
(S
TATTINE. 37
on the white coverlid of the great high feather-bed in the
little spare room, and then Mrs. Kirk sat them down to
three little blue bowls of bread-and-milk, remarking, "Shure,
you must be after being hungry from your long drive,"
and the children ate it with far more relish than home
bread-and-milk was ever eaten.
"Now I'm doubting," said Patrick, standing with his
back to the cooking-stove and with a corn-cob pipe in his
mouth, "if it's the style to have bread-and-milk at 'At
Homes' in the city."
"Patrick," answered Tattine seriously, "we do not want
this to be like a city ' At Home.' I don't care for them
at all. Everybody stays for just a little while, and every-
body talks at once, and as loudly as they can, and at some
of them they only have tea and a little cake or something
like that to eat," and Tattine glanced at the kitchen-table
over by the window with a smile and a shake of the head,
as though very much better pleased with what she saw
there. A pair of chickens lay ready for broiling on a blue
china platter. Several ears of corn were husked ready for the
pot they were to be boiled in. A plate of cold potatoes
looked as though waiting for the frying-pan, and from the
depths of a glass fruit-dish a beautiful pile of Fall-pippins
towered up to a huge red apple at the top.
"Indade, thin, but we'll do our best," said Mrs. Kirk,
"to make it as different from what you be calling a city
'At Home' as possible, and now suppose you let Patrick
take you over our bit of a farm, and see what you foind
to interest you, and I'm going wid yer, while ye have a
look at my geese, for there's not the loike of my geese at
any of the big gentlemin's farms within tin miles of us."
And so, nothing loth, the little party filed out of the
house, and after all hands had assisted in unharnessing
Barney and tying him into his stall, with a manger-full of
38 TATTINE.
sweet, crisp hay for his dinner, they followed Mrs. Kirk's
lead to the little pond at the foot of the apple-orchard.
And then what did they see ! but a truly beautiful great
flock of white geese. Some were sailing gracefully around
the pond, some were pluming their snowy breasts on the
shore beside it, and three, the finest of them all, and
each with a bow of ribbon tied round its long neck, were
confined within a little picket-fence apart from the others.
" Why, what beauties, Mrs. Kirk!" exclaimed Tattine, the
minute she spied them, "and what are the ribbons for? Do
they mean they have taken a prize at some show or other?
And why do they each have a different color ? "
"They mane," said Mrs. Kirk proudly, standing with her
hands upon her hips and her face fairly beaming, "they
mane as how they're to be presinted to you three children.
The red is for Master Rudolph, the white is for Miss Mabel,
and the blue is for you, Miss Tattine."
"Oh, Mrs. Kirk!" the three children exclaimed, with
delight, and Mabel added politely, "But do you really think
you can spare them, Mrs. Kirk ? "
" Why, of course she can ! can't you, Mrs. Kirk ? " cut
in Rudolph warmly, for the idea of relinquishing such a
splendid gift was not for a moment to be thought of. "I
wonder how we can get them home," he added, by way
of settling the matter.
"Indade, thin, and I have this foine crate ready to go
right in the back of your cart," and there, to be sure,
was a fine sort of cage with a board top and bottom and
laths at the sides, while other laths were lying ready to
be nailed into place after the geese should have been stowed
away within it. The children were simply wild over this
addition to their separate little sets of live-stock, and
although the whole day was delightful, there was all the
while an almost impatient looking forward to the supreme
TATTINE. 39
moment when they should start for home with those beau-
tiful geese in their keeping. And at last it came.
"I wonder if my goose will be a little lonely," said
Tattine, as they all stood about, watching Patrick nail on
the laths.
''Faith and it will thin," said Mrs. Kirk. "It never
came to my moind that they wouldn't all three be together.
Here's little Grey-wing to keep Blue-ribbon company/' and
Mrs. Kirk seized one of the smaller geese that happened to
be near her, and squeezed it into the cage through the
small opening that was left.
"Well, if you can spare it, I think that is better, Mrs.
Kirk, because everything has a companion over at our place.
We have two cats, two pairs of puppies, two little bay
horses, and two greys, and two everything, but as there's only
one of me I am friends with them all."
"Bless your heart, but I'm glad you thought to
mintion it," and then Patrick and Mrs. Kirk gave each little
extended hand a hearty shake, and the children — declaring
over and over that "they had a lovely time and were so
much obliged for 'the geese" —climbed into the cart and set
off for home.
"I'd go the short cut by the ford," advised Patrick; "it
looks like we might get a shower by sunset."
"Yes, I think we would better," said Rudolph, glancing
toward the clouds in the west. Rudolph prided himself on
his ability to forecast the weather, and was generally able
to tell correctly when a shower was pretty sure to come
and when it was likely to "go round."
So Barney was coaxed into a good gait, which he was
ready as a rule to take towards home, and the little ford
by way of a farm-lane, and which saved a good mile on
the road home, was soon reached. Barney knew the place
well and, always enjoying it, picked his way carefully to
981912A
40 TATTIXE.
the middle of the ford, and then he took it into his stub-
born little head to stand stock still, and to plant his four
hoofs firmly in the nice soft mud at the bottom of the
stream.
" Go on," urged Tattine ; "Go on," urged Mabel, and
Rudolph applied his sapling whip with might and main, but
all to no effect. Meantime some geese from a neigh-
bouring farm had come sailing out into the ford, to have
a look at their friends in the crate, and the geese in the
crate, wild to be out on the water with their comrades,
craned their long necks far out between the laths, and set
up a tremendous squawking. It was rather a comical situa-
tion, and the children laughed till their sides ached, but
after a while it ceased to be so funny. The clouds were
rolling up blacker, and there was an occasional flash of
lightning far off in the distance, but Barney still stood ob-
durate and unmoved, simply revelling in the sensation of
the cool water, running down-stream against his four little
donkey-legs. At last Rudolph was . at his wits' end, for
what did Tattine and Mabel do but commence to cry. Great
drops of rain were falling now, and they could not bear
the thought of being mid-way in that stream with the storm
breaking right above their heads, and when girls, little or
big, young or old, cannot bear the thought of things they
cry. It does not always help matters ; it frequently makes
them more difficult, but then again sometimes it does help
a little, and this appeared to be one of those times, for when
the girls' crying put Rudolph to his wits' end, he realised that
there was just one thing left to try, and that was to jump
overboard and try and pull Barney to land, since Barney
would not pull him. So into the water he jumped, keeping
the reins in his hand, and then, getting a little ahead of Barney,
he began to walk and pull. Now fortunately, there is nothing
like the force of example, which simply means that when
TATTINE. 41
Barney saw Rudolph walking and pulling he began to walk
and pull too.
Meantime, while Patrick and his wife were think-
ing that the children had had plenty of time to reach
home before the storm, there was great anxiety in the two
homes where those three dear children lived. Patrick the
coachman and Philip the groom had been sent with the
wagonette by the main road to Patrick Kirk's — Patrick to
bring the children and Philip to take charge of Barney, but
as the children were coming home, or rather trying to come
home, by the ford, of course they missed them.
All the while the storm was growing in violence,
and suddenly for about five minutes great hailstones came
beating down till the lawn was fairly white with them, and
the panes of glass in the green-house roof at Oakdene cracked
and broke beneath them. "And those three blessed children
are probably out in it all," thought Tattine's Mother, standing
pale and trembling at her window, and watching the road up
42 TATTINE.
which the wagonette would have to come. And then what
did she see but Barney, trotting bravely up the hill, with
the geese still craning their necks through the laths of the
cage, but with the reins dragging through the mud of the
roadway, and with no children in the little cart. Close
behind him came the wagonette, which Barney was cleverly
managing to keep well ahead of, but Mrs. Gerald soon dis-
covered that neither wTere the children in that either. In
an instant she was down the stairs and out on the porch to
meet Patrick at the door.
"It isn't possible you have no word of the children?"
she cried excitedly.
" Patrick Kirk says they started home by the ford in
time to reach here an hour before the storm," gasped Patrick,
"but we came back by the ford ourselves and not a sign
have we seen of them, till Barney ran out of the woods
ahead of us five minutes ago."
And then a dreadful thought flashed through her mind.
Could it be possible they had been drowned in the ford?
But that moment her eyes saw something that made her
heart leap for joy, something that looked drowned enough,
but wasn't. Rudolph was running up the hill as fast as
his soaking clothing would let him, and, reaching the door
breathless enough, he sank down on the floor of the porch.
"Oh, Mrs. Gerald," he said, as soon as he could catch
his breath, "Mabel and Tattine are all right; they're safe
in the log play-house at the Cornwells', but we've had an
awful fright. Is Barney home ? When the hail came I tied
him to a tree and we ran into the log house, but he
broke away the next minute and took to his heels and
ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Barney's an awful
fraud, Mrs. Gerald."
But Mrs. Gerald had no time just then to give heed
to Barney's misdoings. Seizing a wrap from the hall, she
TATTINE. 43
ordered Rudolph into the house and to bed, as quickly as he
could be gotten there, sent Philip to Rudolph's Mother with
the word that the children were safe, and then started off
in the wagonette to bring Mabel and Tattine home.
"Mamma," said Tattine, snuggling her wet little self
close to her Mother's side in the carriage, "Rudolph was just
splendid, the way he hauled Barney and us and the cart
out of the water, but Mamma, I am done with Barney now
too. He's not to be trusted either."
Mrs. Gerald thought of two or three things that might
be urged in Barney's favour, but it did not seem kind even
to attempt to reason with two such tired and soaking little
specimens, so she only said, "Well, Barney can never again
be trusted in the ford, that's one sure thing."
"No, indeed," said Mabel warmly; "I would not give
fifty cents for him."
"You can have him for nothing," said Tattine, with a
wan little smile; "after this he can never be trusted in
anything."
CHAPTER VI.
"IT IS THEIR NATURE TO."
'"PATTINE was getting on beautifully with her attempt to
use Grandma Luty's name at the proper time, and
in the proper place, and she was getting on beautifully
with Grandma herself as well. She loved everything about
her, and wished it need not be so very long till she
could be a grandma herself, have white hair and wear
snowy caps atop of it, and kerchiefs around her neck, and
use gold eye-glasses and a knitting-basket. Grandma Luty,
you see, was one of the dear, old-fashioned grandmothers.
There are not many of them nowadays. Most of them
seem to like to dress so you cannot tell a grandmother
from just an ordinary everyday mother. If you have a
grandmother — a nice old one, I mean — see if you cannot get
her into the cap and kerchief, and then show her how
lovely she looks in them. But what I was going to
tell you was that Grandma Luty's visit was all a joy to
Tattine, and so when, just at daylight one morning, the
TATTINE.
45
setter puppies in their kennel at the back of the house
commenced a prodigious barking, Tattine's first thought was
for Grandma.
" It's a perfect shame to have them wake her up,"
she said to herself, " and I know a way to stop them,"
so, quiet as a mouse, she stole out of bed, slipped
into her bed-slippers and her nurse's wrapper, that was
lying across a chair, and then just as noiselessly stole
downstairs, and unlocking the door leading to the back
46 TATTINE.
porch, hurried to open the gate of the kennel, for simply
to let the puppies run she knew would stop their barking.
Tattine was right about that, biit just as she swung the
gate open, a happy thought struck those four little puppies'
minds, and as she started to run back to the house, all
four of them buried their sharp little teeth in the frill of
Priscilla's wrapper.
Still Tattine succeeded in making her way across the
lawn back to the door, although she had four puppies in
tow and was almost weak from laughing.
She knew perfectly well what a funny picture she
must make, with the wrapper that was so much too large
for her, only kept in place by the big puff sleeves : and
with the puppies pulling away for dear life, at the train.
When she reached the screen door, she had a tussle with
them, one by one, taking a sort of reef in the trailing
skirt as each puppy was successfully disposed of, until all
of it was clear of the sharp little teeth, and she could
bang the door to between them.
I do not believe Grandma Luty ever laughed harder
than when Tattine told her all about it as they sat
together in the porch that morning after breakfast. She even
laughed her cap way over on one side, so that Tattine
had to take out the gold pins and put them in again to
straighten it.
" But, Grandma," said Tattine, when they had sobered
down, " those puppies, cunning as they are now, will just
be cruel setters when they grow up, killing everything they
come across, birds and rabbits and chipmunks."
"Tattine," said Grandma Luty, with her dear, kindly
smile, " your Mother has told me how disappointed you
have been this summer in Betsy and Doctor and little
Black-and-white, and that now Barney has fallen into
disgrace, since he kept you so long in the ford the other
TATTINE. 47
day, but I want to tell you something. You must not stop
loving them at all because they do what you call cruel
things. You have heard the old rhyme :—
" Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
For God has made them so:
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their nature to."
" Oh, yes, I know that," said Tattine, " and I don't
think it's all quite true ; our dogs don't bite (I suppose it
means biting people), bad as they are."
" No ; I've always thought myself that line was not
quite fair to the dogs either, but the verses mean that we
mustn't blame animals for doing things that it is their
nature to do."
"And yet, Grandma, I am not allowed to do naughty
things because it is my nature to."
" Ah, but, Tattine, there lies the beautiful difference.
You can be reasoned with, and made to understand things,
so that you can change your nature — I mean the part of
you that makes you sometimes love to do naughty things.
"There's another part of your nature that is dear and
good and sweet, and doesn't need to be changed at al'.
But Betsy and Doctor can only be trained in a few ways,
and never to really change their nature.
" Setters have hunted rabbits always, kittens have preyed
upon birds, and donkeys, as a rule, have stood still when-
ever they wanted to."
"But why, I wonder, were they made so ?"
" You nor I nor nobody knows, Tattine, but isn't it
fine that for some reason we are made differently ? It we
will only be reasonable and try hard enough and in the right
way, we can overcome anything."
"It's a little like a sermon, Grandma Luty."
" It's a little bit of a one then, for it's over, but you
48 TATTINE.
go this minute and give Betsy and Doctor a good hard
hug, and tell them you forgive them."
And Tattine did as she was bid, and Doctor and Betsy,
J f
who had sadly missed her petting, were wild with delight.
"But don't even you yourselves wish," she said, looking
down at them ruefully, "that it was not your nature to kill
dear little baby rabbits ? "
And Tattine thought they looked as though they really
were very sorry indeed.