Sarah Noble Ives

“ Betsy saw a great tree on the lawn snap like a twig, and with some fibers still clinging to the trunk, stretch its arms helplessly along the path of the wind. Leaves by thousands twisted off and flew like fear-driven goblins. A board from no-one-knew-where came up the hillside and struck the honeysuckle porch, tearing the vines till they floated out like green ribbons. ”

“ Johns’ house. Van lay silent until his breath returned, his heart beat steadier, and his nerves lost their terrible tension. Then his self-respect came to him. He [141] could not bear to be brought home in a man’s arms. Betsy or Mary might tote him around a little, if he were tired or sleepy,—but any one else,—oh, no, indeed!
With a wriggle and a plunge he slipped from the hold of the astonished night-watchman, who stood with his mouth open, watching him disappear through the dark, like a small goblin, in the direction of home. ”

“ Without heeding that, nor the roaring of the wind as it burst into the hallway, she stepped out into the awful tumult, slipped the catch of Van’s chain, picked up the half-drowned, frightened little body, and set him inside the door.
Then came the really hard part—to shut the door again. Betsy pushed with all her might. A strong man could hardly have done it, and she was just recovering from an illness. In the hallway pictures were torn from their moorings, and the furniture was dancing a quickstep. Try as best she might, with all her strength, she could not close the latch. ”

“ Still, it was rare sport to chase these veterans, and Van’s days abroad were one long series of crimes. Home he would go at night, and sleep the sleep of an angel in his basket in the kitchen. In the morning he would be off to kill, kill, kill.
He did not stop at the Hill-Top. There were neighbors who had cats. These he found, and many a happy family was made desolate. Soon, instead of being a well-behaved little dog, beloved by all, he became a hated ruffian. Many a time it was only the name on his collar that saved him from being shot. ”

“ He’ll come back all right, and be a good dog forever after.”
“It doesn’t seem—it doesn’t seem,” sobbed Betsy, “as if I could possibly live without him.”
“Betsy mine,” Aunt Kate squeezed the little hand tighter, “do you know how we have grown to love you? I haven’t wanted to force you; I wanted you to come to me of your own free will, but I must say just this; when you get big enough to understand, you will know that Uncle Ben and Aunt Kate never had any little children, and they wanted them; and there’s a place all ready in their hearts. ”

“ LIFE on the Hill-Top moved serenely, and Van grew like a weed. His church-going did not make a saint of him, but ever, he grew [88] dearer to the heart of Betsy. I suspect, even, that the occasional wrongdoings of the aristocratic little scapegrace only endeared him the more. His sins were all sins of a high-strung, spirited disposition, and he was so human in his fallings from grace and his funny repentances, that Mrs. Johns would look at him, laugh, and exclaim,
“You may say what you like. He certainly looks like a dog; but he isn’t. ”

“ Van was hard at Piggy’s heels, in spite of the efforts of the bystanders to catch him; the clown followed Van, Uncle Sam followed the clown; a haymaker went streaking after Uncle Sam; a male attendant in petticoats gathered up his skirts and followed the haymaker—it was far more stirring than the ride of the Miller of Dee.
The whole of the United States stood up in their floats and shrieked with joy, Rhode Island and California clasping hands, as the mad procession went whirling by. Those who did not join in the chase stood cheering and holding their sides and offering good advice. ”

“ Every minute full of new delights, and all too short. Hunger pressed them at an early hour to take their nooning, and they refreshed themselves with the contents of the basket, and drank tin cups of nectar from the opalescent pool. Van sat up and begged and did every trick he knew in payment for the largess with which Betsy rewarded him. ”

“ Barefooted and silent, Betsy opened the door and crept softly out into the hall. Feeling her way she went down the stairs, the soft rustle of her little nightgown being the only sound that broke the stillness of the house. Gently she turned the key in the lock and stepped out on the back veranda. In the tool-room Van was still [45] rending deaf heaven. The door was unlocked, and Betsy gently pushed it open.
Instantly the wailing ceased. A scamper of little feet came toward her, and she felt the cold little pads on her own as Van dug his foreclaws into her nightgown, and tried to climb up. ”

“ In the morning the adventurers turned out to be none the worse for their soaking. But oh, the wreck of the honeysuckle porch, and the flower-beds, and the noble trees whose heads had been lopped off! Nature had to work hard, with considerable help from the florist and the carpenter, to get things back into shapeliness. The honeysuckle porch had its broken vines trimmed off, the soaked pillows were dried out, and the place generally was restored to order. But Van slept there no more. His Betsy was better, and the freedom of the house was his again. ”

“ An eager brown head pushed the chicken-yard gate just far enough to let a little brown and white body through; a streak like lightning passed from this to the other gate; a click, and the spring did its duty; but Van was outside!
Mr. Trimble looked around, looked again, and through the palings he saw a flying shadow, heading westward down the road into the unknown. It was useless to call. What dog on earth would come back to the call of an alien master, when he had a Betsy to be hunted for the whole world over? ”

“ The only thing so far that seems to reach her is Van.”
“Don’t hurry her. It’ll come. She can’t help loving you, Kate. Nobody could. But she’s not accustomed to the shows of love. Van is a dog. He simply forces himself on her. If she doesn’t cuddle him, he cuddles her. He’s the most taking bit I ever saw on four legs.”
“If he can only break down that uncanny coldness! If she would only be a child instead of a little old woman, I could get at her.”
[77] “Wait,” replied Dr. Johns. “At this stage Van is the educating principle in matters of the heart. You are doing well in other ways. ”

“ A quickening of his heart told him that his father and his father’s father’s had always chased cats. There was a long line of sporting dogs behind him, and here was game worthy of the blood.
Tommy’s yellow fur stiffened into bristles; his tail grew big and threatening; he backed against the dining-room door with a low growl and with all claws set. Van gave one short “Woof!” and started for him. Tommy, who had met many dogs, large and small, and vanquished not a few, was not sure that this courageous morsel could be a real dog at all, and in that moment of hesitation the day was lost. ”

“ One may whip a coward, and feel that he deserves it, but with two brave eyes looking up, not even begging for mercy, a white body that will quiver, but not cringe under the lash, with no sound of [160] protest—how can one do it? Betsy needed all her own courage for the task.
Without a whimper the plucky little dog went back to the house on his chain, and care was redoubled to keep him at home. He showed no remorse. He had had his fun and taken his punishment. Chickens were decidedly the best sport yet, and his blood continued to leap at the sight of a feathered temptation. ”

“ The whipping came, swift and awful; not one of Betsy’s whippings, nor yet of Dr. Johns’. No, [189] indeed! It was like nothing that Van had ever heard of or dreamed of. Mr. Trimble knew how to whip so it would be remembered.
Van’s little body writhed with the pain and the smart of it, but never a sound did he utter, not the faintest whisper. No soldier ever showed more grit and courage. No Stoic ever shut his teeth more grimly and silently. Even as the lashings fell, Mr. Trimble could not help admiring that indomitable spirit ”

“ A little boy about Pete’s size, with the same blue eyes and tow hair, came up the road, driving a solitary cow. As he turned in at the gate, he almost stumbled over a poor, panting, tired little dog, who lay crumpled in a heap, with mouth agape, and dry tongue lolling from between his teeth. He wore no collar, and with the dust of [202] the road soiling his white coat, no one would ever have suspected him to be a prince.
“Why, hello!” said the boy. “What you doin’ here? You look tired to death. ”

“ One morning he slipped out through a carelessly unlatched door, and was off down the hill as fast as his little legs could carry him.
By some luck—hard luck for Vanny-Boy—Betsy saw him and started after him at the top of her speed, stopping only long enough to take the whip. At the foot of the hill stood a house with a chicken-yard behind it. A few stately old biddies were stalking around the lawn after worms and insects, while a still statelier old rooster strutted up and down importantly.
Van saw them and turned in. He must make the most of his liberty, and no time was to be lost. ”

“ Eastward, up Bow Lane they turned, Van always in the lead, while straying cats and chickens no longer needed to flee at his approach.
A sleepy, winding road was Bow Lane, making a great curve past meadows and farmhouses, till it lost itself in the hills. A golden glow filled all the valley ahead of them, and the hills rose out of the mist like dreams, barely outlined in delicate amethyst against the glory of the sky. ”

“ So, although he went home in a very subdued way, with his head drooping and his bark silent, he was in no way minded to continue in obedience. The bad way was so much more to his liking, too. Do not men, and good men, go out with guns, and shoot and kill innocent birds and squirrels, for the mere sport of it? It is a gentleman’s sport—to kill. Pity that it should be so! So we cannot too severely blame a little dog for following the instincts that grown men indulge in and are never whipped for. ”

“ When they arose from the scrimmage, Uncle Sam held Van in a deadly grip, while Piggy was led away, squealing with rage and terror. Still keeping his strangle-hold upon Van, Uncle Sam strode back to the driveway, delivered the protesting culprit into Mary’s hands, and mounted his float once more, a hero, who had saved his country’s honor and his country’s pig from annihilation. ”

“ Now [223] up and out, through some burned ground, over a brook, through a long stretch of unbroken wood, and then, before them lay the Reservoir, its gray mirror broken into millions of tiny ripples by the falling raindrops.
Beyond lay the field of the cedar soldiers, on guard. Betsy knew the way now, although the dusk was gathering. Across the valley she could see the Hospital buildings looming, and the lights as they flashed up in the corridors. ”

“ Peters and the fire-hose remained unchanged, but Van went home a reconstructed dog, [112] never more to be merely a cuddled, pampered house-darling. Betsy shuddered when she looked at him. He had a wild eye, a swagger, blood on his white shirt-front and all over his coat. He was a man-grown now, and had done a man’s work. His only regret was that the lady of his heart could not see the magnificent heap of slain. But perhaps she would not have appreciated it. He looked pityingly at Betsy. She was only a girl. She could not go out into the world and kill rats. Poor Betsy! ”

“ This time he came in and went down the long aisle. At the very end he stopped and looked over into the box-stall. There stood the cow in one corner, with her baby lying huddled behind her, her great mother-eyes, fierce with fear, looking [140] straight into the brave brown eyes of a wee dog. Even then Van did not stir. He must hold that awful thing back by the force of his will, until the last moment of danger was over.
The night-watchman reached over and lifted Van out by his collar. At his touch the little hero crumpled up with a piteous whine that went straight to the heart of his rescuer. ”

“ I never had a pet, ’cept Speckly and Banty, and they’re hens.”
“Well, I think you’ll like him when you get to know him. Can we fix him up a place to sleep somewhere around?” said Bob.
“We can keep him in the kitchen, until he gets acquainted. Mary will look after him, and he can sleep in the little tool-room off the back veranda.”
Betsy made no move to go nearer or to play with him, and Aunt Kate said aside, to Bob,
“I’m afraid it’s a mistake. She doesn’t seem to care for animals. Ben’s away, and I don’t know what he’ll say. Oh, Bob, I’m afraid you will have to take him back.” ”

“ But you must do your best to remember. Little girls must be nice in every way.”
That evening, when Uncle Ben came to dinner, he was greeted by an apparition all in white. Betsy stood by her chair with a shy look at him, to observe the effect of her transformation.
“As I live,—a fairy,—out of a story-book! Or was there a fairy godmother somewhere, and is this Cinderella? Where is the Prince?”
Betsy laughed and seated herself, and Aunt Kate noticed that at the end of the meal she reached down shyly, and wiped her mouth on the corner of her napkin. ”

“ Mary the cook, and Treesa, could not be bribed into punishing the winsome, fascinating sinner. There was no one to do it but Betsy, and she hated to worse than anybody. But she loved the little Prince too well to let him go on lightly in his wicked ways.
One evening, when it was just beginning to be [119] cat-time—every one knows that this is at twilight, when the cats, who love darkness, shake themselves out of their day naps, and prowl about after mice and rats—Van escaped through the kitchen door, and was off on a marauding expedition. ”

“ An English setter lived there, but he was on a chain and did not count.
Now they came to a row of small buildings, and here, in the days of his apprenticeship at the business, there had been a perfect harvest of cats; cats to be chased through fences, cats to be treed, cats to be caught by their fearful mistresses and hurried away to safety, at the sound of Van’s bark. But now there were left only a few veterans that backed up against walls and stood at bay, with two rows of sharp teeth and twenty claws to bury in him, if he ventured too near. Van respected these old, seasoned cats. ”

“ Johns and Betsy, and [51] Treesa the maid, there was in the house a cook, Mary, who made nice things for people to eat, and who was one of those dear Irish souls of whom the world cannot have too many. She knew where to place a cooky jar so that a little girl could find her way to it unhindered, and she knew also how to smuggle tid-bits to a little dog who was supposed to live entirely on dog-biscuit and milk. Then there was Thatcher, a convalescent patient, who came over every day from the Hospital to help with the work. ”