Further Adventures of Lad [95]
dog's neck in an agony of gratitude.
Her squeeze almost strangled the weak old collie. But there was love in it. And because of that, he reveled in the hurt.
"You won't let him thump me!" she whispered in the dog's ear. "You won't let him. I'd never be afraid of him, if you were there. Oh, Laddie, you're so darling!"
Lad, highly pleased, licked her wizened little face and, sitting down, insisted on shaking hands with her. He realized he had done something quite wonderful and had made this little chum of his proud of him. Wherefore, he was proud of himself; and felt young and gay again;--until his next strenuous effort to walk fast.
All night, in her sleep, in the stiflingly hot loft of her father's hovel, which served her and the five other Ruloff children as a dormitory, Sonya was faintly aware of that bright memory. Her first waking thought was of the shaggy shoulder pressed so protectingly against her side; and of the reassuring thrust of Lad's muzzle into her cupped palm. It all seemed as vividly real as though she could still feel the friendly contact.
On the next morning, Ruloff alone of all the village's population went to work. For it was Labor Day.
Ruloff did not believe in holidays,--either for himself or for his family. And while wages were so high. he was not minded to throw away a full day's earnings, just for the sake of honoring a holiday ordained in a country for which he felt no fondness or other interest. So, with Sonya tagging after him, he made his way to the Place, as usual.
Now, on Labor Day, of that year, was held the annual outdoor dog-show at Hawthorne. Lad, of course, was far too old to be taken to a show. And this was one of the compensations of old age. For Laddie detested dog shows. But, abnormally sensitive by nature, this sensitiveness had grown upon him with failing strength and added years. Thus, when he saw Bruce and Bob and Jean bathed and groomed and made ready for the show, he was sad at heart. For here was one more thing in which he no longer had any share.
And so he lay down in his cave, under the piano, his head between his absurdly small white forepaws; and hearkened sadly to the preparations for departure.
Bruce ("Sunnybank Goldsmith") was perhaps the most beautiful collie of his generation. Groomed for a show, he made most other dogs look plebeian and shabby. That day, one may say in passing, he was destined to go through the collie classes, to Winners, with a rush; and then to win the award and cup for "Best Dog Of Any Breed In The Show."
Bruce's son and daughter--Bobby and Jean were to win in their respective collie classes as Best Puppy and Best Novice. It was to be a day of triumph for the Sunnybank Kennels. Yet, somehow, it was to be a day to which the Mistress and the Master never enjoyed looking back.
Into the car the three dogs were put. The Mistress and the Master and the Place's superintended got aboard, and the trip to Hawthorne began.
Laddie had come out from his cave to see the show-goers off. The Mistress, looking back, had a last glimpse of him, standing in the front doorway; staring wistfully after the car. She waved her hand to him in farewell. Lad wagged his plumed tail, once, in reply, to the salute. Then, heavily, he turned back again into the house.
"Dear old Laddie!" sighed the Mistress. "He used to hate to go to shows. And now he hates being left behind. It seems so cruel to leave him. And yet--"
"Oh the maids will take good care of him!" consoled the Master. "They spoil him, whenever they get a chance. And we'll be back before five o'clock. We can't be forever looking out for his crotchety feelings."
"We won't be 'forever' doing that," prophesied the Mistress, unhappily.
Left alone the old dog paced slowly back to his cave. The day was hot. His massive coat was a burden. Life was growing more of a problem than of old it had been. Also, from time to time, lately, his heart did queer things that annoyed Lad. At some sudden motion or undue exertion it had a new way of throbbing and of hammering against his ribs
Her squeeze almost strangled the weak old collie. But there was love in it. And because of that, he reveled in the hurt.
"You won't let him thump me!" she whispered in the dog's ear. "You won't let him. I'd never be afraid of him, if you were there. Oh, Laddie, you're so darling!"
Lad, highly pleased, licked her wizened little face and, sitting down, insisted on shaking hands with her. He realized he had done something quite wonderful and had made this little chum of his proud of him. Wherefore, he was proud of himself; and felt young and gay again;--until his next strenuous effort to walk fast.
All night, in her sleep, in the stiflingly hot loft of her father's hovel, which served her and the five other Ruloff children as a dormitory, Sonya was faintly aware of that bright memory. Her first waking thought was of the shaggy shoulder pressed so protectingly against her side; and of the reassuring thrust of Lad's muzzle into her cupped palm. It all seemed as vividly real as though she could still feel the friendly contact.
On the next morning, Ruloff alone of all the village's population went to work. For it was Labor Day.
Ruloff did not believe in holidays,--either for himself or for his family. And while wages were so high. he was not minded to throw away a full day's earnings, just for the sake of honoring a holiday ordained in a country for which he felt no fondness or other interest. So, with Sonya tagging after him, he made his way to the Place, as usual.
Now, on Labor Day, of that year, was held the annual outdoor dog-show at Hawthorne. Lad, of course, was far too old to be taken to a show. And this was one of the compensations of old age. For Laddie detested dog shows. But, abnormally sensitive by nature, this sensitiveness had grown upon him with failing strength and added years. Thus, when he saw Bruce and Bob and Jean bathed and groomed and made ready for the show, he was sad at heart. For here was one more thing in which he no longer had any share.
And so he lay down in his cave, under the piano, his head between his absurdly small white forepaws; and hearkened sadly to the preparations for departure.
Bruce ("Sunnybank Goldsmith") was perhaps the most beautiful collie of his generation. Groomed for a show, he made most other dogs look plebeian and shabby. That day, one may say in passing, he was destined to go through the collie classes, to Winners, with a rush; and then to win the award and cup for "Best Dog Of Any Breed In The Show."
Bruce's son and daughter--Bobby and Jean were to win in their respective collie classes as Best Puppy and Best Novice. It was to be a day of triumph for the Sunnybank Kennels. Yet, somehow, it was to be a day to which the Mistress and the Master never enjoyed looking back.
Into the car the three dogs were put. The Mistress and the Master and the Place's superintended got aboard, and the trip to Hawthorne began.
Laddie had come out from his cave to see the show-goers off. The Mistress, looking back, had a last glimpse of him, standing in the front doorway; staring wistfully after the car. She waved her hand to him in farewell. Lad wagged his plumed tail, once, in reply, to the salute. Then, heavily, he turned back again into the house.
"Dear old Laddie!" sighed the Mistress. "He used to hate to go to shows. And now he hates being left behind. It seems so cruel to leave him. And yet--"
"Oh the maids will take good care of him!" consoled the Master. "They spoil him, whenever they get a chance. And we'll be back before five o'clock. We can't be forever looking out for his crotchety feelings."
"We won't be 'forever' doing that," prophesied the Mistress, unhappily.
Left alone the old dog paced slowly back to his cave. The day was hot. His massive coat was a burden. Life was growing more of a problem than of old it had been. Also, from time to time, lately, his heart did queer things that annoyed Lad. At some sudden motion or undue exertion it had a new way of throbbing and of hammering against his ribs