Aunt Janes Nieces and Uncle John | Page 2

of
us this past hour, and kept the dinner waiting, all because of a scurvy
bit of an animal?"
"Pshaw!" said Uncle John. "Speak for yourself, Major. I wasn't worried

a bit."
"You see," explained Patsy, rising to take off her things and put them
away, "I was coming home early when I first met Mumbles. A little
boy had him, with a string tied around his neck, and when Mumbles
tried to run up to me the boy jerked him back cruelly--and afterward
kicked him. That made me mad."
"Of course," said Uncle John, nodding wisely.
"I cuffed the boy, and he said he'd take it out on Mumbles, as soon as
I'd gone away. I didn't like that. I offered to buy the dog, but the boy
didn't dare sell him. He said it belonged to his father, who'd kill him
and kick up a row besides if he didn't bring Mumbles home. So I found
out where they lived and as it wasn't far away I went home with him."
"Crazy Patsy!" smiled Uncle John.
"And the dinner waiting!" groaned the Major, reproachfully.
"Well, I had a time, you can believe!" continued Patsy, with animation.
"The man was a big brute, and half drunk. He grabbed up the little
doggie and threw it into a box, and then told me to go home and mind
my business."
"Which of course you refused to do."
"Of course. I'd made up my mind to have that dog."
"Dogs," said the Major, "invariably are nuisances."
"Not invariably," declared Patsy. "Mumbles is different. Mumbles is a
good doggie, and wise and knowing, although he's only a baby dog yet.
And I just couldn't leave him to be cuffed and kicked and thrown
around by those brutes. When the man found I was determined to have
Mumbles he demanded twenty-five dollars."
"Twenty-five dollars!" It startled Uncle John.

"For that bit of rags and meat?" asked the Major, looking at the puppy
with disfavor. "Twenty-five cents would be exorbitant."
"The man misjudged me," observed Patsy, with a merry laugh that
matched her twinkling blue eyes. "In the end he got just two dollars for
Mumbles, and when I came away he bade me good-bye very
respectfully. The boy howled. He hasn't any dog to kick and is
broken-hearted. As for Mumbles, he's going to lead a respectable life
and be treated like a dog."
"Do you mean to keep him?" inquired the Major.
"Why not?" said Patsy. "Don't you like him, Daddy?"
Her father turned Mumbles over with his toe. The puppy lay upon its
back, lazily, with all four paws in the air, and cast a comical glance
from one beady bright eye at the man who had disturbed him.
The Major sighed.
"He can't hunt, Patsy; he's not even a mouser."
"We haven't a mouse in the house."
"He's neither useful nor ornamental. From the looks o' the beast he's
only good to sleep and eat."
"What's the odds?" laughed Patsy, coddling Mumbles up in her arms.
"We don't expect use or ornamentation from Mumbles. All we ask is
his companionship."
Mary called them to dinner just then, and the girl hurried to her room to
make a hasty toilet while the men sat down at the table and eyed their
soup reflectively.
"This addition to the family," remarked Uncle John, "need not make
you at all unhappy, my dear Major. Don't get jealous of Mumbles, for
heaven's sake, for the little brute may add a bit to Patsy's bliss."

"It's the first time I've ever allowed a dog in the house."
"You are not running this present establishment. It belongs exclusively
to Patsy."
"I've always hated the sight of a woman coddling a dog," added the
Major, frowning.
"I know. I feel the same way myself. But it isn't the dog's fault. It's the
woman's. And Patsy won't make a fool of herself over that frowsy
puppy, I assure you. On the contrary, she's likely to get a lot of joy out
of her new plaything, and if you really want to make her happy, Major,
don't discourage this new whim, absurd as it seems. Let Patsy alone.
And let Mumbles alone."
The girl came in just then, bringing sunshine with her. Patsy Doyle was
not very big for her years, and some people unkindly described her
form as "chubby." She had glorious red hair--really-truly red--and her
blue eyes were the merriest, sweetest eyes any girl could possess. You
seldom noticed her freckles, her saucy chin or her turned-up nose; you
only saw the laughing eyes and crown of golden red, and seeing them
you liked Patsy Doyle at once and imagined she was very good to look
at, if not strictly beautiful. No one had friends more loyal, and these
two old