Country life -- Juvenile fiction; Orphans -- Juvenile fiction; Self-perception -- Juvenile fiction; Vermont -- Juvenile fiction
how plainly she could understand dog-talk. “Quick, Uncle Henry, give me
another piece!”
Uncle Henry rapidly transferred to her plate a wing-bone from his own,
and Aunt Abigail, with one deft swoop, contributed the neck from the
platter. As fast as she could, Elizabeth Ann fed these to Shep, who
woofed them down at top speed, the bones crunching loudly under his
strong, white teeth. How he did enjoy it! It did your heart good to see
his gusto!
[Illustration: “Oh, he’s asking for more’” cried Elizabeth Ann]
There was the sound of the telephone receiver being hung up in the next
room—and everybody acted at once. Aunt Abigail began drinking
innocently out of her coffee-cup, only her laughing old eyes showing
over the rim; Uncle Henry buttered a slice of bread with a grave face,
as though he were deep in conjectures about who would be the next
President; and as for old Shep, he made one plunge across the room, his
toe-nails clicking rapidly on the bare floor, sprang up on the couch,
and when Cousin Ann opened the door and came in he was lying in exactly
the position in which she had left him, his paw stretched out, his head
laid on it, his brown eyes turned up meekly so that the whites showed.
I’ve told you what these three did, but I haven’t told you yet what
Elizabeth Ann did. And it is worth telling. As Cousin Ann stepped in,
glancing suspiciously from her sober-faced and abstracted parents to the
lamb-like innocence of old Shep, little Elizabeth Ann burst into a shout
of laughter. It’s worth telling about, because, so far as I know, that
was the first time she had ever laughed out heartily in all her life.
For my part, I’m half surprised to know that she knew how.
Of course, when she laughed, Aunt Abigail had to laugh too, setting down
her coffee-cup and showing all the funny wrinkles in her face screwed up
hard with fun; and that made Uncle Henry laugh, and then Cousin Ann
laughed and said, as she sat down, “You are bad children, the whole four
of you!” And old Shep, seeing the state of things, stopped pretending to
be meek, jumped down, and came lumbering over to the table, wagging his
tail and laughing too; you know that good, wide dog-smile! He put his
head on Elizabeth Ann’s lap again and she patted it and lifted up one of
his big black ears. She had quite forgotten that she was terribly afraid
of big dogs.
After dinner Cousin Ann looked up at the clock and said: “My goodness!
Betsy’ll be late for school if she doesn’t start right off.” She
explained to the child, aghast at this sudden thunderclap, “I let you
sleep this morning as long as you wanted to, because you were so tired
from your journey. But of course there’s no reason for missing the
afternoon session.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account