Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Children's stories; Families -- Juvenile fiction
'"He won't bite, miss, will he?" she said gently, looking up at me.
'"Oh, dear, no," I said, and the trots, smiling with delight,
stooped--not that they had so very far to stoop--to stroke him too.
'"Pretty doggie," said Doll.
'"Pretty doggie," said Dot.
'Then they held up their dear little mouths to kiss me. "Zank zou,
lady," they said, and each taking a hand of Bessie again, they proceeded
on their way.
'After that day, not many passed without my seeing them, and talking to
them, and making Gip show off his tricks. Sometimes our meetings were at
the window, sometimes on the road; once or twice, when there came some
unusually fine mild days, mamma let me sit out on the shore, and I
taught the trots to dig a hole for Gip and bury him in the sand, all but
his bright eyes and funny black nose--that _was_ a beautiful game! I
never found out exactly where my friends lived; it was in one of the
side streets leading on to the Esplanade, that was all I knew. I never
knew, as I said, if they were boys or girls, or perhaps one of each.
Mamma wanted one day to ask Bessie, but I wouldn't let her. They were
just my two little trots, that was all I wanted to know.
'"It would spoil them to fancy them growing up into great boys or
girls," I said. "I want them to be always trots--nothing else."
'And as Bessie called them simply Doll and Dot, without any "master" or
"miss," I was able to keep my fancy.
'When the weather grew colder, the trots came out in a new
costume--sealskin coats, sealskin caps, and sealskin gloves--they were
just little balls of sealskin, and looked "trottier" than ever. About
this time they left off carrying their woolly lambs. I suspect the real
reason was that their extreme affection for the lambs had resulted in
these favoured animals growing more black than white, and that Bessie
judged them unfit for appearing in public, but if this _was_ the case,
evidently Bessie had been obliged to resort to artifice to obtain their
owners' consent to the lambs being left at home. For, when I asked the
trots where the precious creatures were, they looked melancholy and
distressed and shook their heads.
'"Too told!" said Doll, and Dot repeated, like a mournful echo, "too
told!"
'"Of course," said I, "how stupid of me not to think of it! of course
it's far too cold for such very little lambs to be out."
'Bessie looked gratefully at me. "We're going to buy some cakes for
tea," she said, with a smile, and sure enough in about half-an-hour the
trio reappeared again, and came to a standstill as usual, opposite our
window. And, instead of a lamb, each trot hugged a little parcel, neatly
done up in white paper. I opened the window to hear what they were
saying, they looked so excited.
'"Takes for tea," they both called out at once, "takes for tea. Lady
have one. Dip have one."
'And poor Bessie was obliged to open the parcels, and extract one "take"
from each and hand them up to me, before my little dears would be
satisfied.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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