<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></SPAN></span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus029.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="216" alt="Tinker" title="Tinker" /></div>
<h2>Tinker</h2>
<div class='cap'>MY name is Stumps, and my mistress
is rather a nice little girl; but she
has her faults, like most people. I myself,
as it happens, am wonderfully free from
faults. Among my mistress's faults is what
I may call a lack of dignity, joined to a
desire to make other people undignified
too.</div>
<p>You will hardly believe that, before I
had belonged to her a month, she had
made me learn to dance and to jump<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></SPAN></span>. I
am a very respectable dachshund, of cobby
build, and jumping is the very last exercise
I should have taken to of my own accord.
But when Miss Daisy said, "Now jump,
Stumps; there's a darling!" and held out
her little arms, I could not well refuse.
For, after all, the child is my mistress.</p>
<p>I never could understand why the cat
was not taught to dance. It seemed to me
very hard that, when I was having those
long, miserable lessons, the cat should be
allowed to sit down doing nothing but
smile at my misfortunes. Trap always
said we ought to feel honoured by being
taught, and the reason why Pussy wasn't
asked to learn was because she was so
dreadfully stupid, and had no brains for
anything but the pleasures of the chase and
the cares of a family; but I didn't think
that could be the reason, because the doll
was <i>taught</i> to dance, though she never<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></SPAN></span>
<i>learned</i>, and I am sure <i>she</i> was stupid
enough.</p>
<p>Another thing which Miss Daisy taught
me to do was to beg; and the action fills
me with shame and pain every time I
perform it, and as the years go on I hate
it more and more.</p>
<p>For a stout, middle-aged dog, the action
is absurd and degrading. Yet, such is the
force of habit, that I go through the performance
now quite naturally whenever I
want anything. Trap does it too, and says
what does it matter? but then he has no
judgment, and, besides, he's thin.</p>
<p>But one of the most thoughtless things
my little mistress ever did was one day
last summer when she was out without me.
I chose to stay at home because it was
very hot, and I knew that the roads would
be dusty; and she was only going down
to the village shop, where no one ever<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></SPAN></span>
thinks of offering a dog anything to drink.
If she had been going to the farm, I should,
have gone with her, because the lady there
shows proper attention to visitors, and
always sets down a nice dish of milk for
us dogs. Besides, I was a little unwell
just then; the family had had duck for
dinner, and I always feel a little faint
after duck. All our family do. So I
stayed at home. Well, Miss Daisy had
gone out with only Trap and her hoop.
I wish I had been there, for Trap is far
too easy-going, and a hoop never gives
any advice worth listening to. Trap told
me all about it as well as he could. Trap
can't tell a story very well, poor fellow!</p>
<p>It seems that, as Miss Daisy went across
the village green, she saw a crowd of children
running after a dog with—I hardly like to
mention such a thing—a tin saucepan tied
to his tail! The dog bolted into the empty<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></SPAN></span>
dog-kennel by the blacksmith's shop, and
stayed there, growling.</p>
<p>"Go away, bad children," said Miss
Daisy; "how dare you treat a poor dear
doggie so?"</p>
<p>The children wouldn't go away at first.
"Very well," said Miss Daisy; "I shall
tell Trap what I think of you all."</p>
<p>Then she whispered to Trap, and he
began to growl so fiercely that the children
dared not come nearer. Any one can growl.
Presently the children got tired of listening
to him, and went away. Then Miss Daisy
coaxed the unpleasant, tin-tailed creature out
of the kennel, and untied the string, and took
off the pan. Then, if you'll believe a dog
of my character (and of course you must),
she carried that low dog home in her arms,
and washed him, and set him down to eat
out of the same plate as Trap and myself!
Trap was friends with him directly—some<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></SPAN></span>
people have no spirit—but I hope I know
my duty to myself too well for that. I
snarled at the base intruder till he was quite
ashamed of himself. I knew from the first
that he'd be taught jumping and begging,
and things like that. I hate those things
myself, but that's no reason why every low
dog should be taught them. Miss Daisy
called him Tinker, because he once carried
a tin pan about with him, and she tried very
hard to make me friendly to him; but I
can choose my own friends, I hope.</p>
<p>Every one made a great fuss about one
thing he did, but actually it was nothing
but biting; and if biting isn't natural to
a dog, I should like to know what is; and
why people should be praised and petted,
and have new collars, and everybody else's
share of the bones, only for doing what is
quite natural to them, I have never been
able to comprehend. Besides, barking is<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></SPAN></span>
as good as biting, any day, and I'm sure
I barked enough, though it wasn't my
business.</p>
<p>Miss Daisy had gone away to stay with
her cousins in London, and she had taken
Trap with her. Why she should have
taken him instead of me is a matter on
which I can offer no opinion. If my
opinion had been asked, I should have
said that I thought it more suitable for her
to have a heavy middle-aged dog of good
manners than a harum-scarum young stripling
like Trap. Trap told me afterwards that
he thought the reason he was taken was
because Miss Daisy would have had more
to pay for the dog-ticket of such a heavy
dog as I am; but I can't believe that dogs
are charged for by the weight, like butter.
As I was saying, Miss Daisy took Trap with
her, and also her father and mother; and
Tinker and I were left to take care of the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></SPAN></span>
servants. We had a very agreeable time,
though I confess that I missed Miss Daisy
more than I would have believed possible.
But there was more to eat in the kitchen
than usual, and the servants often left
things on the table when they went out
to take in the milk or to chat with the
gardeners; and if people leave things on
tables, they have only themselves to thank
for whatever happens.</p>
<p>There was a young man who wore a
fur cap, and who used to call with fish;
and I was more surprised than I care to
own when I met him walking out with
cook one Sunday afternoon, for I thought
she had a soul above fish; yet when the
servants began to ask this young man to
tea in the kitchen, I thought, of course,
it must be all right, but Tinker would
do nothing but growl the whole time the
young man was there; so that at last cook<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></SPAN></span>
had to lock us up in the butler's pantry till
the young man was gone. <i>I</i> had not
growled, but I was locked in too. The
world is full of injustice and ingratitude.</p>
<p>Now one night, when the servants went
to bed, Tinker and I lay down in our
baskets under the hall table as usual; but
Tinker was dreadfully restless, which must
have been only an accident, because he
said himself he didn't know what was the
matter with him; and he would not go to
sleep, but kept walking up and down as if
he were going to hide a bone and couldn't
find a good place for it.</p>
<p>"Do lie down, for goodness' sake,
Tinker," I said, "and go to sleep. Any
one can see you have not been brought up
in a house where regular hours are kept."</p>
<p>"I can't go to sleep; I don't know
what's the matter with me," he said
gloomily.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>Well, I tried to go to sleep myself, and
I think I must almost have dropped off,
when I heard a scrape-scraping from the
butler's pantry. I wasn't going to bark.
It wasn't my business. I have often
heard Miss Daisy's relations say that I
was no house-dog. Still, I think Tinker
ought to have barked then, but he didn't:
only just pricked his ears and his tail; and
he waited, and the scraping went on.</p>
<p>Then Tinker said to me—"Don't you
make a noise, for your life; I am going to
see what it is;" and he trotted softly into
the butler's pantry. It was rather dark,
but you know we dogs can see as well as
cats in the dark, although they do make
such a fuss about it, and declare that they
are the only creatures who can.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus030.png" width-obs="316" height-obs="400" alt=""The man's arm dragged through the window-pane, and Tinker hanging on to his fingers."" title=""The man's arm dragged through the window-pane, and Tinker hanging on to his fingers."" /> <span class="caption">"The man's arm dragged through the window-pane, and Tinker hanging on to his fingers."</span></div>
<p>There was a man outside the window,
and I tapped Tinker with my tail to show
him that he ought to bark, but he never<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></SPAN></span>
moved. The man had been scraping and
scraping till he had got out one of the
window-panes. It was a very little window-pane,
only just big enough for his hand
to go through; and the man took out the
window-pane and put his hand through,
making a long arm to get at the fastening
of the window; and just as he was going
to undo the hasp, Tinker made a spring
on to the window-ledge, and he caught
the man's hand in his mouth, and the man
gave a push, and Tinker fell off the window-ledge,
but he took the man's hand with
him; and there was the man's arm dragged
through the window-pane, and Tinker hanging
on to his fingers.</p>
<p>The man broke some more panes and
tried to get his other hand through, and if
he had he would have done for Tinker, but
he could not manage it; and now I thought
"This is the time to bark," and I barked.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></SPAN></span>
I barked my best, I barked nobly, though
I am not a house-dog, and I don't think
it's my business.</p>
<p>In less than a minute down came the
gardener and the under-gardener: and
Tinker was still holding on, and they took
the man, and he was marched off to
prison, and it turned out to be the man
in the fur cap. But though they made
fuss enough about Tinker's share in the
business, you may be sure it didn't make
me think much more of him.</p>
<p>I should never have had anything to
say to him but for one thing. Early one
morning we three dogs—it's all over long
ago, and I hope I can be generous and
let bygones be bygones; he is one of
<i>us</i> now—went out for a run in the paddock
by the wood, and while Trap and I
were trotting up and down chatting about
the weather, that Tinker dog bolted into<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></SPAN></span>
the wood, and in less than a minute came
out with a rabbit.</p>
<p>I saw at once that he could never get
it eaten before Miss Daisy came out, and
I knew that, if he were found with it, his
sufferings would be awful. So I helped
him to eat it. I know my duty to a
fellow-creature, I trust. It was a very
young rabbit, and tender. Not too much
fur. Fur gets in your throat, and spoils
your teeth, besides. We had just finished
it when my mistress came out. Trap would
not eat a bit, even to help Tinker out of his
scrape, but <i>I</i> have a kind heart.</p>
<p>Well, after that I thought I might as
well consent to be friends with Tinker, in
spite of his low breeding. You see, I had
helped him out of a dreadful scrape, and
one always feels kindly to people one
has helped. He has caught several more
rabbits since then, and I have always<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></SPAN></span>
stood by him on those occasions, and I
always mean to. I am not one to turn
my back on a friend, I believe.</p>
<p>So now he has a collar like ours, and
I hardly feel degraded at all when I sit
opposite to him at the doll's tea-parties.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus031.png" width-obs="145" height-obs="300" alt="Sitting up at a tea-party" title="Sitting up at a tea-party" /></div>
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