Under the Lilacs (23 page)

Into faithful Betty’s bosom did she pour forth her remorseful lamentations, often bursting out with the passionate exclamation,
“If I could only find Sanch, and give him back to Ben, I wouldn’t care if I tumbled down and broke all my legs right away!”
Such abandonment of woe made a deep impression on Betty; and she fell into the way of consoling
her sister by cheerful prophecies, and a firm belief that the organ man would yet appear with the lost darling.

“I’ve got five cents of my berry money, and I’ll buy you an orange if I see any,” promised Betty, stopping to kiss Bab, as
the phaeton came to the door, and Thorny handed in a young lady whose white frock was so stiff with starch that it crackled
like paper.

“Lemons will do if oranges are gone. I like ’em to suck with lots of sugar,” answered Bab, feeling that the sour sadly predominated
in her cup just now.

“Don’t she look sweet, the dear!” murmured Mrs. Moss, proudly surveying her youngest.

She certainly did, sitting under the fringed canopy with “Belinda,” all in her best, upon her lap, as she turned to smile
and nod, with a face so bright and winsome under the little blue hat that it was no wonder mother and sister thought there
never was such a perfect child as “our Betty.”

Dr. Mann was busy when they arrived, but would be ready in an hour; so they did their shopping at once, having made sure of
the whip as they came along. Thorny added some candy to Bab’s lemon, and Belinda had a cake, which her mamma obligingly ate
for her. Betty thought that Aladdin’s palace could not have been more splendid than the jeweler’s shop where the canine cuff
buttons were bought; but when they came to the bookstore, she forgot gold, silver, and precious stones, to revel in picture
books, while Thorny selected Ben’s modest school outfit. Seeing her delight, and feeling particularly lavish with plenty of
money in his pocket, the young gentleman completed the child’s bliss by telling her to choose whichever one she liked best
out of the pile of Walter Crane’s toy books lying in bewildering colors before her.

“This one; Bab always wanted to see the dreadful cupboard,
and there’s a picture of it here,” answered Betty, clasping a gorgeous copy of “Bluebeard” to the little bosom, which still
heaved with the rapture of looking at that delicious mixture of lovely Fatimas in pale azure gowns, pink Sister Annes on the
turret top, crimson tyrants, and yellow brothers with forests of plumage blowing wildly from their mushroom-shaped caps.

“Very good; there you are, then. Now, come on, for the fun is over and the grind begins,” said Thorny, marching away to his
doom, with his tongue in his tooth, and trepidation in his manly breast.

“Shall I shut my eyes and hold your head?” quavered devoted Betty, as they went up the steps so many reluctant feet had mounted
before them.

“Nonsense, child, never mind me! You look out the window and amuse yourself; we shall not be long, I guess”; and in went Thorny,
silently hoping that the dentist had been suddenly called away, or some person with an excruciating toothache would be waiting
to take ether, and so give our young man an excuse for postponing his job.

But no; Dr. Mann was quite at leisure, and, full of smiling interest, awaited his victim, laying forth his unpleasant little
tools with the exasperating alacrity of his kind. Glad to be released from any share in the operation, Betty retired to the
back window to be as far away as possible, and for half an hour was so absorbed in her book that poor Thorny might have groaned
dismally without disturbing her.

“Done now, directly, only a trifle of polishing off and a look round,” said Dr. Mann, at last; and Thorny, with a yawn that
nearly rent him asunder, called out —

“Thank goodness! Pack up, Bettykin.”

“I’m all ready!” and, shutting her book with a start, she slipped down from the easy chair in a great hurry.

But “looking round” took time; and, before the circuit of Thorny’s mouth was satisfactorily made, Betty had become absorbed
by a more interesting tale than even the immortal “Bluebeard.” A noise of children’s voices in the narrow alleyway behind
the house attracted her attention; the long window opened directly on the yard, and the gate swung in the wind. Curious as
Fatima, Betty went to look; but all she saw was a group of excited boys peeping between the bars of another gate farther down.

“What’s the matter?” she asked of two small girls, who stood close by her, longing but not daring to approach the scene of
action.

“Boys chasing a great black cat, I believe,” answered one child.

“Want to come and see?” added the other, politely extending the invitation to the stranger.

The thought of a cat in trouble would have nerved Betty to face a dozen boys; so she followed at once, meeting several lads
hurrying away on some important errand, to judge from their anxious countenances.

“Hold tight, Jimmy, and let ’em peek, if they want to. He can’t hurt anybody now,” said one of the dusty huntsmen, who sat
on the wide coping of the wall, while two others held the gate, as if a cat could only escape that way.

“You peek first, Susy, and see if it looks nice,” said one little girl, boosting her friend so that she could look through
the bars in the upper part of the gate.

“No; it’s only an ugly old dog!” responded Susy, losing all interest at once, and descending with a bounce.

“He’s mad! and Jud’s gone to get his gun, so we can
shoot him!” called out one mischievous boy, resenting the contempt expressed for their capture.

“Ain’t, neither!” howled another lad from his perch. “Mad dogs won’t drink; and this one is lapping out of a tub of water.”

“Well, he may be, and we don’t know him, and he hasn’t got any muzzle on, and the police will kill him if Jud don’t,” answered
the sanguinary youth who had first started the chase after the poor animal, which had come limping into town, so evidently
a lost dog that no one felt any hesitation in stoning him.

“We must go right home; my mother is dreadful ‘fraid of mad dogs, and so is yours,” said Susy; and, having satisfied their
curiosity, the young ladies prudently retired.

But Betty had not had her “peep,” and could not resist one look; for she had heard of these unhappy animals, and thought Bab
would like to know how they looked. So she stood on tiptoe and got a good view of a dusty, brownish dog, lying on the grass
close by, with his tongue hanging out while he panted, as if exhausted by fatigue and fear, for he still cast apprehensive
glances at the wall which divided him from his tormentors.

“His eyes are just like Sanch’s,” said Betty to herself, unconscious that she spoke aloud, till she saw the creature prick
up his ears and half rise, as if he had been called.

“He looks as if he knew me, but it isn’t our Sancho:
he
was a lovely dog.” Betty said that to the little boy peeping in beside her; but before he could make any reply, the brown
beast stood straight up with an inquiring bark, while his eyes shone like topaz, and the short tail wagged excitedly.

“Why, that’s just the way Sanch used to do!” cried Betty, bewildered by the familiar ways of this unfamiliar-looking dog.

As if the repetition of his name settled his own doubts, he leaped toward the gate and thrust a pink nose between the bars,
with a howl of recognition as Betty’s face was more clearly seen. The boys tumbled precipitately from their perches, and the
little girl fell back alarmed, yet could not bear to run away and leave those imploring eyes pleading to her through the bars
so eloquently.

“He acts just like our dog, but I don’t see how it
can
be him. Sancho, Sancho, is it truly you?” called Betty, at her wits’ end what to do.

“Bow, wow, wow!” answered the well-known bark, and the little tail did all it could to emphasize the sound, while the eyes
were so full of dumb love and joy, the child could not refuse to believe that this ugly stray was their own Sancho strangely
transformed.

All of a sudden, the thought rushed into her mind, “How glad Ben would be! — and Bab would feel all happy again. I
must
carry him home.”

Never stopping to think of danger, and forgetting all her doubts, Betty caught the gate handle out of Jimmy’s grasp, exclaiming
eagerly: “He
is
our dog! Let me go in; I ain’t afraid.”

“Not till Jud comes back; he told us we mustn’t,” answered the astonished Jimmy, thinking the little girl as mad as the dog.

With a confused idea that the unknown Jud had gone for a gun to shoot Sanch, Betty gave a desperate pull at the latch and
ran into the yard, bent on saving her friend. That it
was
a friend there could be no further question; for, though the creature rushed at her as if about to devour her at a mouthful,
it was only to roll ecstatically at her feet, lick her hands, and gaze into her face, trying to pant out the welcome which
he could not utter. An older and more prudent
person would have waited to make sure before venturing in; but confiding Betty knew little of the danger which she might have
run; her heart spoke more quickly than her head, and, not stopping to have the truth
proved,
she took the brown dog on trust, and found it was indeed dear Sanch.

Sitting on the grass, she hugged him close, careless of tumbled hat, dusty paws on her clean frock, or a row of strange boys
staring from the wall.

“Darling doggy, where have you been so long?” she cried, the great thing sprawling across her lap, as if he could not get
near enough to his brave little protector. “Did they make you black and beat you, dear? Oh, Sanch, where
is
your tail — your pretty tail?”

A plaintive growl and a pathetic wag was all the answer he could make to these tender inquiries; for never would the story
of his wrongs be known, and never could the glory of his doggish beauty be restored. Betty was trying to comfort him with
pats and praises, when a new face appeared at the gate, and Thorny’s authoritative voice called out —

“Betty Moss, what on earth are you doing in there with that dirty beast?”

“It’s Sanch, it’s Sanch! Oh, come and see!” shrieked Betty, flying up to lead forth her prize.

But the gate was held fast, for someone said the words, “Mad dog,” and Thorny was very naturally alarmed, because he had already
seen one. “Don’t stay there another minute. Get up on that bench and I’ll pull you over,” directed Thorny, mounting the wall
to rescue his charge in hot haste; for the dog did certainly behave queerly, limping hurriedly to and fro, as if anxious to
escape. No wonder,
when Sancho heard a voice he knew, and recognized another face, yet did not meet as kind a welcome as before.

“No, I’m not coming out till he does. It
is
Sanch, and I’m going to take him home to Ben,” answered Betty, decidedly, as she wet her handkerchief in the rain water to
bind up the swollen paw that had traveled many miles to rest in her little hand again.

“You’re crazy, child. That is no more Ben’s dog than I am.

“See if it isn’t!” cried Betty, perfectly unshaken in her faith; and, recalling the words of command as well as she could,
she tried to put Sancho through his little performance, as the surest proof that she was right. The poor fellow did his best,
weary and footsore though he was; but when it came to taking his tail in his mouth to waltz, he gave it up, and, dropping
down, hid his face in his paws, as he always did when any of his tricks failed. The act was almost pathetic now, for one of
the paws was bandaged, and his whole attitude expressed the humiliation of a broken spirit.

That touched Thorny, and, quite convinced both of the dog’s sanity and identity, he sprung down from the wall with Ben’s own
whistle, which gladdened Sancho’s longing ear as much as the boy’s rough caresses comforted his homesick heart.

“Now, let’s carry him right home, and surprise Ben. Won’t he be pleased?” said Betty, so in earnest that she tried to lift
the big brute in spite of his protesting yelps.

“You are a little trump to find him out in spite of all the horrid things that have been done to him. We must have a rope
to lead him, for he’s got no collar and no muzzle. He
has
got friends though, and I’d like to see anyone touch him
now
. Out of the way, there, boy!” Looking as commanding as a drum major, Thorny cleared a passage, and with one arm about his
neck, Betty proudly led her treasure forth, magnanimously ignoring his late foes, and keeping his eye fixed on the faithful
friend whose tender little heart had known him in spite of all disguises.

“I found him, sir,” and the lad who had been most eager for the shooting stepped forward to claim any reward that might be
offered for the now valuable victim.

“I kept him safe till she came,” added the jailer Jimmy, speaking for himself.

“I said he wasn’t mad,” cried a third, feeling that his discrimination deserved approval.

“Jud ain’t
my
brother,” said the fourth, eager to clear his skirts from all offence.

“But all of you chased and stoned him, I suppose? You’d better look out or you’ll get reported to the Society for the Prevention
of Cruelty to Animals.”

With this awful and mysterious threat, Thorny slammed the doctor’s gate in the faces of the mercenary youths, nipping their
hopes in the bud, and teaching them a good lesson.

After one astonished stare, Lita accepted Sancho without demur, and they greeted one another cordially, nose to nose, instead
of shaking hands. Then the dog nestled into his old place under the linen duster with a grunt of intense content, and soon
fell fast asleep, quite worn out with fatigue.

No Roman conqueror bearing untold treasures with him ever approached the Eternal City feeling richer or prouder than did Miss
Betty as she rolled rapidly toward the little brown house with the captive won by her own arms. Poor Belinda was forgotten
in a corner, “Bluebeard” was thrust under the cushion, and the lovely lemon was squeezed before
its time by being sat upon; for all the child could think of was Ben’s delight, Bab’s remorseful burden lifted off, “Ma’s”
surprise, and Miss Celia’s pleasure. She could hardly realize the happy fact, and kept peeping under the cover to be sure
that the dear dingy bunch at her feet was truly there.