Soap-Bubble Stories Part 21

All Granny Pyetangle's relations were dead; and she lived quite alone with her little grandson 'Zekiel, who had been a mingled source of pride and worry to her, ever since he left off long-clothes and took to a short-waisted frock with a wide frill round the neck, that required constant attention in the way of washing and ironing.

'Zekiel's favourite place to play in was Granny Pyetangle's cottage doorway.

A board had been put up to prevent him rolling out on to the cobblestone pavement; and this board though very irritating to 'Zekiel in many ways--as preventing him from straying down the road and otherwise enjoying himself--was yet not to be despised, as he soon discovered, when he was learning to walk.

It was one of the few things he could grasp firmly, without its immediately sliding away, doubling up, turning head over heels, or otherwise throwing him violently down on the brick floor of the kitchen--before he knew what had happened to him!

Granny Pyetangle frequently went to have a chat with Dame Fossie, her large sun-bonnet shading her wrinkled old face, a handkerchief crossed neatly over her print bodice. On these occasions 'Zekiel accompanied his grandmother, hanging on to her skirts affectionately with one hand, whilst he waved a crust of brown bread in the other--a crust which he generally carried concealed about his person, for the two-fold purpose of a.s.sisting through his teeth and amusing himself at every convenient opportunity.

Whilst Granny Pyetangle discussed the affairs of the neighbours, 'Zekiel would sit on the floor by her side contentedly sucking his crust, and looking with awe upon the contents of the shop. Such a collection of good things seemed a perfect fairy-tale to him, and he would often settle in his own mind what he would have when he grew up and had pence to rattle about in his trousers' pocket, like Eli and Hercules Colfox.

Like most children in short petticoats, who--contrary to the generally-received idea--are constantly meditating on every subject that comes under their notice; 'Zekiel had his own ideas about Granny Pyetangle and her friend Dame Fossie.

His grandmother ought to have spent more of her money on peppermint-cushions, tin trumpets, and whip-tops, and less on those uninteresting household stores; and Dame Fossie should have remembered that crusts are poor work when brandy-snaps and gingerbread are spread before you, and ought more frequently to have bestowed a biscuit on the round-eyed 'Zekiel, as he played with the cat, or poked pieces of stick between the cracks of the floor when Granny Pyetangle wasn't looking.

Though 'Zekiel had no brothers and sisters, he had a great many friends, the chief of which were Eli and Hercules Colfox, his next door neighbours, who were very kind and condescending to him in spite of the dignity of their corduroy trousers.

'Zekiel had a way of ingratiating himself with everyone, and of getting what he wanted, that inspired the slower-witted Eli and Hercules with awe and admiration; until one day he took it into his head to long for Dame Fossie's celebrated black and white spotted china dog!

All the village knew this dog, for it had stood for years on a shelf above the collection of treasures in the shop window. It was not an ordinary china dog such as you can see in any china shop now-a-days, but one of the old-fashioned kind, on which the designer had (like the early masters) expended all his art upon the dignity of expression without hara.s.sing himself with petty details.

Proudly Dame Fossie's dog looked down upon the world, sitting erect, with his golden padlock and chain glittering in any stray gleams of sunshine; his white coat evenly spotted with black, his long drooping ears, neat row of carefully-painted black curls across the forehead, and that proud smile which, though the whole village had been smitten down before him, would still have remained unchangeable.

It was this wonderful superiority of expression that had first attracted 'Zekiel as he played about on the floor of Dame Fossie's parlour.

The china dog never looked at him with friendly good-fellowship, like the other dogs of the village. It never wanted to share his crusts, or upset him by running up against his legs just as he thought he had mastered the difficulties of "walking like Granny!"

It was altogether a strangely attractive animal, and 'Zekiel, from the time he could first indistinctly put a name to anything, had christened it the "Fozzy-gog" out of compliment to its owner, Dame Fossie--and the "Fozzy-gog" it remained to him, and to the other children of the village, for ever after.

When 'Zekiel was nearly six years of age Granny Pyetangle called him up to her, and asked what he would like for his birthday present.

'Zekiel sat down on a wooden stool in the chimney corner, where the iron pot hung, and meditated deeply.

"Eli and Hercules to tea, and a Fozzy-gog to play with," he said at last--and Granny Pyetangle smiled and said she would see what she could do--"'Zekiel was a good lad, and deserved a treat."

'Zekiel's birthday arrived, and the moment he opened his eyes he saw that his grandmother had redeemed her promise.

On a rush chair beside his pillow stood the very double of the Fozzy-gog!--yellow eyes, gold collar and padlock, black spots, and all complete!

'Zekiel sprang up, and scrambled into his clothes as quickly as possible. He danced round Granny Pyetangle in an ecstasy of delight, and scarcely eat any breakfast, he was in such a hurry to show his treasure to his two friends.

As he handed it over the low hedge that separated the two gardens he felt a proud boy, but Eli did not appear so enthusiastic as 'Zekiel expected. He said that "chaney dogs was more for Grannies nor for lads," and that if he had been in 'Zekiel's place he would have chosen a fine peg-top.

Poor 'Zekiel was disappointed. The tears gathered in his eyes. He hugged the despised china dog fondly to him, and carried it indoors to put in a place of honour in Granny Pyetangle's oak corner-cupboard--where it looked out proudly from behind the gla.s.s doors, in company with the best tea-cups, a shepherdess tending a woolly lamb, two greyhounds on stony-white cushions, and Grandfather Pyetangle's horn snuff-box.

Time pa.s.sed on, and 'Zekiel's petticoats gave place to corduroy breeches, but his devotion to the china dog never waned. He would talk to it, and tell it all his plans and fancies, and several times he almost persuaded himself that it wagged its tail and nodded to him. In fact, he was quite sure that when Granny Pyetangle was ill that winter, the china dog was conscious of the fact, and looked at him with its yellow eyes full of compa.s.sion and sympathy.

Poor Granny Pyetangle was certainly very ill. She had suffered from rheumatism for many years, and was sometimes almost bent double with it; but that autumn it came on with increased violence, and 'Zekiel, who nursed his old grandmother devotedly, had to sit by the bed-side for hours giving her medicine, or the food a neighbour prepared for her, just as she required it.

Granny Pyetangle was sometimes rather cross in those days, and would scold poor 'Zekiel for "clumping in his boots" and "worritting"--but 'Zekiel was very patient.

"Sick people _is_ wearing at times," said Dame Fossie. "Come you down to me sometimes, 'Zekiel, and I'll let you play with my chaney dog. It isn't fit as young lads should be cooped up always!"--and when Granny Pyetangle had a neighbour with her, 'Zekiel gladly obeyed.

One evening he ran down the village street with a smile on his face, and a new penny in his pocket. Squire Hanc.o.c.k had given it to him for holding his horse, and he was going to spend it at Dame Fossie's on a cake for his grandmother.

Twilight was falling, yet Dame Fossie's shop was not lighted up; which was strange, as a little oil lamp generally burned in the window as soon as it grew dusk.

The shop door was shut and locked, and 'Zekiel ran round to the back, and climbing on the edge of the rain-water b.u.t.t, he peered over the white dimity blind, into the silent kitchen.

No one was there, and yet Dame Fossie must be somewhere in the house, for he distinctly heard sounds of thumping and sc.r.a.ping going on upstairs.

"I'll get in through the window, and surprise her!" said 'Zekiel; and as one of the latticed panes was unfastened he proceeded to push it gently open, and creep in on to the table that stood just beneath it.

He unlatched the kitchen door, and stole up the ricketty staircase.

The sounds continued, but more loudly. Evidently there was a house-cleaning going on, and 'Zekiel supposed this was why Dame Fossie had been deaf to his repeated knockings. He lifted the latch of the room from which the noise proceeded, and peeping cautiously in, beheld such a strange sight that he remained rooted to the ground with astonishment.

Dame Fossie's furniture was piled up in one corner--the oak bureau, and the rush-bottomed chairs, inside the four-post bedstead. A pail of water stood in the middle of the floor; and close by was the Fozzy-gog himself, with a mop between his paws, working away with the greatest energy.

He was about four times his ordinary size, as upright as 'Zekiel himself, and was directing the work of several other china dogs; amongst whom 'Zekiel immediately recognized his own property, Granny Pyetangle's birthday present!

Everyone seemed to be too busy to notice 'Zekiel as he stood half in the doorway. Two of the dogs were scouring the floor with a pair of Dame Fossie's best scrubbing brushes, another was dusting the ceiling with a feather broom; whilst several, seated round the four-post bedstead, were polishing it with bees' wax and "elbow-grease." They all listened to the Fozzy-gog with respectful attention, as he issued his directions; for he was evidently a person in authority.

It did not occur to 'Zekiel to be surprised that all the dogs were chatting together in very comprehensible Dorsetshire English. To see them actually living, and moving about, was such an extraordinary thing that it swallowed up every other feeling, even that of fear.

"Make haste, my good dogs! Put the furniture straight, and have all ready. Dame Fossie will be returning soon, and we must be back on our shelves before her key turns," said the Fozzy-gog cheerfully.

The dogs all worked with renewed energy, and before 'Zekiel could collect his scattered wits enough to retreat or hide himself, the room was in perfect order, and out trooped the china dogs carrying the buckets, brooms, and brushes, they had been using.

As they caught sight of 'Zekiel, the Fozzy-gog jumped several feet into the air.

"What! 'Zekiel spying upon us!" he screamed angrily. "Bring the lad into the kitchen. We must examine into this," and he clattered down the steep stairs with his mop into the wash-house.

Poor 'Zekiel followed trembling. His own dog had crept up to him, and slipped one paw into his hand, whispering hurriedly, "Don't be downhearted, 'Zekiel. Never contradict him, and he will forgive you in a year or two!"

"A year or two!" thought 'Zekiel wretchedly. "And never contradict him, indeed! when he says I was spying on him. A likely thing!" and he clung to his friend, and dragged him in with him into the kitchen.

The Fozzy-gog sat in Dame Fossie's high-backed chair in the chimney corner, the other china dogs grouped around him. It reminded 'Zekiel of the stories of Kings and their Courts, and no doubt the Fozzy-gog _was_ a king--in his own opinion at least.

He questioned 'Zekiel minutely as to how he happened to come there so late in the evening; and to all the questions 'Zekiel answered most truthfully.

The frown on the Fozzy-gog's face relaxed more and more--an amiable smile began to curl the corners of his mouth, and he extended his paw in a dignified manner towards 'Zekiel, who felt like a prisoner reprieved.

"We forgive you, 'Zekiel! You have always been a good friend to us, and your own dog speaks well of you," said the Fozzy-gog benignly.

"You must give us your word you will never mention what you have seen.

In the future we must be china dogs to you, and _nothing more_; but in return for this you may ask one thing of us, and, if possible, we will grant it."

'Zekiel hesitated. Wild possibilities of delight in the shape of ponies and carts flitted rapidly through his mind, and then the remembrance of Granny Pyetangle, lying ill and suffering on her bed in the little sloping attic, drove everything else from his mind.