Anne Of Ingleside √ (Project K.)

CHAPTER 24

Cock Robin had ceased to subsist solely on worms and ate rice, corn, lettuce and nasturtium seeds. He had grown to be a huge size . . . the "big robin" at Ingleside was becoming locally famous . . . and his breast had turned to a beautiful red. He would perch on Susan's shoulder and watch her knit. He would fly to meet Anne when she returned after an absence and hop before her into the house: he came to Walter's windowsill every morning for crumbs. He took his daily bath in a basin in the back yard, in the corner of the sweet-briar hedge, and would raise the most unholy fuss if he found no water in it. The doctor complained that his pens and matches were always strewn all over the library, but found nobody to sympathize with him, and even he surrendered when Cock Robin lit fearlessly on his hand one day to pick up a flower seed. Everybody was bewitched by Cock Robin . . . except perhaps Jem, who had set his heart on Bruno and was slowly but all too surely learning a bitter lesson . . . that you can buy a dog's body but you cannot buy his love.

At first Jem never suspected this. Of course Bruno would be a bit homesick and lonesome for a time, but that would soon wear off. Jem found it did not. Bruno was the most obedient little dog in the world; he did exactly what he was told and even Susan admitted that a better-behaved animal couldn't be found. But there was no life in him. When Jem took him out Bruno's eyes would gleam alertly at first, his tail would wag and he would start off cockily. But after a little while the glow would leave his eyes and he would trot meekly beside Jem with drooping crest. Kindness was showered upon him by all . . . the juciest and meatiest of bones were at his disposal . . . not the slightest objection was made to his sleeping at the foot of Jem's bed every night. But Bruno remained remote . . . inaccessible . . . a stranger. Sometimes in the night Jem woke and reached down to pat the sturdy little body; but there was never any answering lick of tongue or thump of tail. Bruno permitted caresses but he would not respond to them.

Jem set his teeth. There was a good bit of determination in James Matthew Blythe and he was not going to be beaten by a dog . . . His dog whom he had bought fairly and squarely with money hardly saved from his allowance. Bruno would just have to get over being homesick for Roddy . . . have to give up looking at you with the pathetic eyes of a lost creature . . . have to learn to love him.

Jem had to stand up for Bruno, for the other boys in school, suspecting how he loved the dog, were always trying to "pick on" him.

"Your dog has fleas . . . Great Big fleas," taunted Perry Reese. Jem had to trounce him before Perry would take it back and say Bruno hadn't a single flea . . . not one.

"My pup takes fits once a week," boasted Rob Russell. "I'll bet your old pup never had a fit in his life. If I had a dog like that I'd run him through the meat-grinder."

"We had a dog like that once," said Mike Drew, "but we drowned him."

"My dog's an awful dog," said Sam Warren proudly. "He kills the chickens and chews up all the clothes on wash-day. Bet your old dog hasn't spunk enough for that."

Jem sorrowfully admitted to himself, if not to Sam, that Bruno hadn't. He almost wished he had. And it stung when Watty Flagg shouted, "Your dog's a good dog . . . he never barks on Sunday," because Bruno didn't bark any day.

But with it all he was such a dear, adorable little dog.

"Bruno, why won't you love me?" almost sobbed Jem. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you . . . we could have such fun together." But he would not admit defeat to anyone.

Jem hurried home one evening from a mussel-bake at the Harbour Mouth because he knew a storm was coming. The sea moaned so. Things had a sinister, lonely look. There was a long rip and tear of thunder as Jem dashed into Ingleside.