My Doggie and I

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  RELATES GENERALLY TO THE DOINGS AND SAYINGS OF ROBIN SLIDDER.

  "My dear," said Mrs McTougall one evening to the doctor, "since thatlittle boy Slidder came to stay with us things have become worse andworse; in fact, the house is almost unbearable."

  "My dear," responded Dr McTougall, "you amaze me; surely the boy hasnot dared to be rude--insolent to you?"

  "Oh no, it's not that; but he must really be forbidden to enter thenursery. Our darlings, you know, were dreadful enough before he came,but since then they have become absolute maniacs."

  "You don't mean to say that the little rascal has been teaching them badwords or manners, I hope?" returned the doctor, with a frown.

  "Dear me, no, papa; don't get angry," answered the anxious lady--"farfrom it. On the contrary, I really believe that our darlings havegreatly improved his language and manners by _their_ example; butRobin's exuberant spirits are far too much for them. It is like puttingfire to gunpowder, and they are _so_ fond of him. That's thedifficulty. The boy does not presume, I must say that for him, and heis very respectful to nurse; but the children are constantly asking himto come and play with them, which he seems quite pleased to do, and thenhis mind is so eccentric, so inventive. The new games he devises arevery ingenious, but so exceedingly dangerous and destructive that it isabsolutely necessary to check him, and I want you to do it, dear."

  "I must know something about the nature of the mischief before I cancheck it," said the doctor.

  "Oh, it's indescribable," returned the lady; "the smell that he makes inthe nursery with his chemical experiments is awful; and then poorPompey, or Dumps, or whatever they call him--for they seem veryundecided about his name--has not the life of--I was going to say--a dogwith them. Only last night, when you were out, the ridiculous boyproposed the storming of an ogre's castle. Nurse was down-stairs at thetime, or it could never have happened. Well, of course, Robin was theogre, darling Dolly was a princess whom he had stolen away, Jack was aprince who was to deliver her, and the others were the prince'sretainers. A castle was built in one corner of all the tables andchairs in the room piled on each other, with one particular chair soingeniously arranged that the pulling of it out would bring the castlein ruins to the ground. The plan of attack, as far as I could make out,was that the prince should ring our dinner-bell at the castle gates andfiercely demand admittance, the demand to be followed by a burst fromthe trumpets, drums, and gongs of his soldiers. The ogre, seated on thecastle top with the princess, after a few preliminary yells and howls,was to say, in a gruff voice, that he was too much engaged just thenwith his dinner--that three roast babies were being dished. When theywere disposed of, the princess would be killed, and served up as a sortof light pudding, after which he would open the castle gate. A horriblesmell was to be created at this point to represent the roasting of thebabies. This was to be the signal for a burst of indignation from theprince and his troops, who were to make a furious assault on the door--one of our largest tea-trays--and after a little the prince was to pullaway the particular chair, and rush back with his men to avoid thefalling ruin, while the ogre and princess were to find shelter under thenursery table, and then, when the fall was over, they were to be founddead among the ruins. I am not sure whether the princess was to berevived, or she was to have a grand funeral, but the play never got thatlength. I was sitting here, listening to the various sounds overhead,wondering what they could be about, when I heard a loud ringing--thatwas the castle bell. It was soon followed by a burst of toy trumpetsand drums. A most disgusting smell began to permeate the house at thesame time, for it seems that the ogre set fire to his chemicals toosoon.

  "Then I heard roaring and yelling, which really alarmed me--it was sogruff. When it stopped, there was a woeful howl--that was the burst ofindignation. The assault came off next, and as the shouting of thetroops was mingled with the hammering of the large tea-tray, the ringingof the dinner-bell, and the beating of the gong, you may fancy what thenoise was. In the midst of it there was a hideous crash, accompanied byscreams of alarm that were too genuine to be mistaken. I rushed up, andfound the furniture lying scattered over the room, with darling Dolly inthe midst, the others standing in solemn silence around, and RobinSlidder sitting on the ground ruefully rubbing his head.

  "The truth was that the particular chair had been pulled away before theproper time, and the castle had come down in ruins while the ogre andprincess were still on the top of it. Fortunately Robin saved Dolly, atthe expense of his own head and shoulder, by throwing his arms round herand falling undermost; but it was a narrow escape, and you really mustput a stop to such reckless ongoings."

  The doctor promised to do so.

  "I have to send Robin a message this forenoon, and will administer arebuke before sending him," he said; but it was plain, from the smile onthe doctor's face, that the rebuke would not be severe.

  "Robin," he said, with much solemnity, when the culprit stood beforehim, "take this bottle of medicine to Mr Williams; you know--the oldplace--and say I want to know how he is, and that I will call to-morrowafternoon."

  "Yes, sir," said the boy, taking the bottle with an unusually subduedair.

  "And Robin--stop," continued the doctor. "I am told that the childrenwere visited by an ogre last night."

  "Yes, sir," answered the boy, with an uncertain glance at hisquestioner's grave face.

  "Well, Robin, you know where that ogre lives. Just call and tell himfrom me that if he or any of his relations ever come here again I'llcause them to undergo extraction of the spinal marrow, d'youunderstand?"

  At first little Slidder felt inclined to laugh, but the doctor's facewas so unusually stern that he thought better of it, and went away muchimpressed.

  Now Robin Slidder was no loiterer on his errands, nevertheless he didnot deem it a breach of fidelity to cast an occasional glance into apicture-shop window, or to pause a few seconds now and then to chaff afacetious cabby, or make a politely sarcastic remark to a bobby. Hisconnection with what he termed "'igh life" had softened him downconsiderably, and given a certain degree of polish to his wit, but ithad in no degree repressed his exuberant spirits.

  The distance he had to go being considerable, he travelled the latterpart of the way by omnibus. Chancing to be in a meditative frame ofmind that day, he climbed to the roof of the 'bus, and sat down with hishands thrust deep into his pockets, and his eyes deep into futurity.Whether he saw much there I cannot tell, but after wandering for sometime in that unknown region, his eyes returned to surrounding things,and, among other objects, alighted on the 'bus conductor, whose head waswithin a few inches of his toe. It was the head of the Slogger!

  That eccentric individual, having sprung up in a few months from thecondition of a big boy to that of an exceedingly young man, had obtaineda situation as conductor to a 'bus. He was so busy with his fares whenRobin mounted the 'bus that he failed to observe him until the momentwhen the latter returned from futurity. Their eyes met simultaneously,and opened to such an extent that if size had counted for numbers theymight have done for four boys.

  "Hallo, Buttons!" was the Slogger's exclamation.

  "Hallo, Slogger!" was that of Robin.

  "Well, now, this _is_ a pleasure! who'd a thought it?" said theconductor, reaching up his hand.

  "Is that for your fare or a shake, Slogger?" demanded Robin.

  "A shake, of course, old feller," replied the other, as Robin graspedthe proffered hand;--"but I say," he added in a lower key, "there's noSlogger now in this 'ere world; he's dead an' buried long ago. My nameis Villum Bowls--no connection wotever with Slogger. Oh no! we nevermention 'im;--but, I say, w'en did you go into the genteel line? eh,Slidder?"

  "Robin--Robin is my name _now_, Villum Bowls. I've changed it since wemet last, though I hain't cut old friends like you. Robin an' Slidder'ave been united, an' a pretty pair they make, don't they?"

  "Middlin'. 'Old on till I get that ancient stout part
y shoved in.Looks like as if he was a goin' in the opposite direction, but it don'tmatter so long as we can get 'im in.--Now, then, sir, mind the step.All right? I say, Slid--Robin, I mean--"

  "Vell, Slog--Villum, I mean; why don't you say wot you mean, eh?"

  "'Ow d'you like grey tights an' buttons?" said the Slogger, with a blandsmile.

  "So--so," replied Robin, with a careless air; "the grey is soberenough--quite suitable to my character--an' I confess I'm fond o' thebuttons."

  "There's enough of 'em to form a goodish overcoat a'most," said theSlogger with a critical grin, "but I should 'ave thought 'em notsufficiently waterproof in wet weather."

  "Vell, they ain't much use for that, Slog--eh, Villum; but you shouldsee the dazzling display they makes in sunshine. W'y, you can see mehalf a mile off w'en I chance to be walking in Regent Street or drivin'in the Park. But I value them chiefly because of the frequent andpleasant talks they get me with the ladies."

  "You don't mean for to say, Robin, that the ladies ever holds you by thebutton-'oles?"

  "No, I don't; but I holds _them_ wi' the buttons. This is the way ofit. W'en I chance to see a wery pretty lady--not one o' your beauties,you know; I don't care a dump for them stuck-up creatures! but one o'your sweet, amiable sort, with souls above buttons, an' faces one likesto look at and to kiss w'en you've a right to; vell, w'en I sees one o'these I brushes up again' 'er, an' 'ooks on with my buttons to some of'er togs.

  "If she takes it ill, looks cross, and 'alf inclined to use stronglanguage, I makes a 'umble apology, an' gets undone as fast as possible,but if she larfs, and says, `Stoopid boy; w'y don't you look beforeyou?' or suthin o' that sort, I just 'ooks on another tag to anotherbutton w'en we're a fumblin' at the first one, and so goes on till weget to be quite sociable over it--I might almost say confidential. Onceor twice I've been the victim of misjudgment, and got a heavy slap onthe face from angelic hands that ought to 'ave known better, but on the'ole I'm willin' to take my chance."

  "Not a bad notion," remarked the Slogger; "especially for a prettylittle chap like you, Robin."

  "Right you are," replied the other, "but you needn't try on the dodgeyourself, for it would never pay with a big ugly grampus like you,Villum."

  Having thus run into a pleasant little chat, the two waifs proceeded tocompare notes, in the course of which comparison the Slogger gave anoutline of his recent history. He had been engaged in severalsuccessful burglaries, but had been caught in the act of pocket-picking,for which offence he had spent some weeks in prison. While there avisitor had spoken to him very earnestly, and advised him to try anhonest life, as being, to say the least of it, easier work thanthieving. He had made the attempt. Through the influence of the sameprison-visitor he had obtained a situation, from which he had beenadvanced to the responsible position which he then held.

  "And, d'you know, Robin," said the Slogger, "I find that honesty payspretty well, and I means to stick to it."

  "An' I suppose," said Robin, "if it didn't pay pretty well you'd cutit?"

  "Of course I would," returned the Slogger, with a look of surprise;"wot's the use o' stickin' to a thing that don't pay?"

  "Vell, if them's your principles you ain't got much to 'old on by, mytulip," said Robin.

  "An' wot principles may _you_ 'old on by, my turnip?" asked the Slogger.

  "It would puzzle me, rather, to tell that," returned Robin, "'speciallytalkin' down to the level of my own toes on the top of a 'bus; but I'lltell you what, Villum, if you'll come to Number 6 Grovelly Street,Shadwell Square, just back of Hoboy Crescent, w'ere my master lives, onSunday next at seven in the evenin', you'll hear an' see somethin' as'llopen your eyes."

  "Ah! a meetin'-'ouse'?" said the Slogger, with a slight smile ofcontempt.

  "Music-'alls and publics is meetin'-'ouses, ain't they?"

  "Ah, but they ain't prayer-meetin' 'ouses," rejoined the Slogger.

  "Not so sure o' that Villum. There's a deal o' prayer in such placessometimes, an' it's well for the wisitors that their prayers ain'talways answered. But _our_ meetin'-'ouse is for more than prayer--adeal more; and there's my young missus--a _real_ angel--comes in, and'olds forth there every Sunday evening to young fellers like you an' me.You just come an' judge for yourself."

  "No thankee," returned the Slogger.

  As he spoke a lady with a lap-dog made powerful demonstrations with herumbrella. The 'bus stopped, and the conductor attended to his duties,while Robin, who really felt a strong desire to bring his old comradeunder an influence which he knew was working a wonderful change inhimself, sat meditating sadly on the obstinacy of human nature.

  "I say, Robin," said the Slogger, on resuming his perch, "d'you knowI've found traces o' that young gal as you took such a interest in, asrunned away from the old 'ooman, an' was robbed by Brassey an' me?"

  "You don't mean that!" exclaimed Robin eagerly.

  "Yes I do. She's in London, I believe, but I can't exactly say where.I heard of her through Sal--you know Sal, who 'angs out at the vest endo' Potter's Lane. I expect to see Sal in 'alf an hour, so if you'recomin' back this way, I'll be at the Black Bull by two o'clock, and tellyou all I can pump out of 'er."

  "I'll be there sharp," said Robin promptly; "an now pull up, for I musttake to my legs here."

  "But I say, Robin, if we do find that gal, you won't split on me, eh?You won't tell 'er who I am or where I is? You won't wictimise your oldfriend?"

  "D'you take me for a informer?" demanded Robin, with an offended look.

  "Hall right," cried the Slogger, giving the signal to drive on.

  Robin sped quickly away, executed his mission, and returned to the BlackBull in a state of considerable excitement and strong hope.

  Slidder was doomed to disappointment. He reached the Black Bull at twoo'clock precisely.

  "Vell, my fair one," he said, addressing a waiting-maid who met him inthe passage, "it's good for sore eyes to see the likes o' you in cloudyweather. D'you 'appen to know a young man of the name of Sl--I meanVillum Bowls?"

  "Yes I do, Mr Imp'rence," answered the girl.

  "You couldn't introdooce me to him, could you, Miss Sunshine?"

  "No, I couldn't, because he isn't here, and won't likely be back for twohours."

  This reply took all the humour out of Robin's tone and manner. Heresolved, however, to wait for half an hour, and went out to saunter infront of the hotel.

  Half an hour passed, then another, then another, and the boy was fain toleave the spot in despair.

  Poor Slidder's temperament was sanguine. Slight encouragement raisedhis hopes very high. Failure depressed him proportionally and woefullylow, but, to do him justice, he never sorrowed long. In the presentinstance, he left the Black Bull grinding his teeth. Then he took toclanking his heels as he walked along in a way that drew forth thecomments of several street-boys, to whom, in a spirit of liberality, hereturned considerably more than he received. Then he began to mutterbetween his teeth his private opinion as to faithless persons ingeneral, and faithless Villum, _alias_ the Slogger, in particular, whosecharacter he painted to himself in extremely sombre colours. Afterthat, a heavy thunder-shower having fallen and drenched him, he walkedrecklessly and violently through every puddle in his path. This seemedto relieve his spirit, for when he reached Hoboy Crescent he hadrecovered much of his wonted equanimity.

  The Slogger was not however, so faithless as his old friend imagined.He had been at the Black Bull before two o'clock, but had been sent offby his employer with a note to a house at a considerable distance insuch urgent haste that he had not time even to think of leaving amessage for his friend.

  In these circumstances, he resolved to clear his character by paying avisit on the following Sunday to Number 6 Grovelly Street, ShadwellSquare.