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The Third Little Pet Book, with the Tale of Mop and Frisk
PART I
THE DOGS LEAVE HOME
On a small town by the side of a lake, there once lived two dogs named Mop and Frisk.
Frisk was a pert black and tan dog, with a tail that stood bolt up in the air, and a pair of ears to match; while Mop was a poor old cur, with a head like a worn-out hair-broom; ears like bell-pulls; a mouth that went from ear to ear, and a great bush of a tail. Then he had to drag the cart of an old rag-man round the town, to earn his meals; while Frisk, who lived with a pie-man, had a fine ride in the cart each morn; and all the work he had to do was to bark at the bad boys who tried to steal the pies. The rest of his time he spent in play.
One day the old rag-man, who was as cross as ten bears, and far too fond of beer, came out of a shop where he had been to drink, while poor Mop had to wait in the cold. The rag-man's legs went from side to side; he could not walk; so he got in the cart, on top of all the rags, and cried to Mop:
"Come, go on, you bad cur, or I'll make you!" and with these words, he let fall a great stick on the back of the poor dog, and gave him a kick with his thick hob-nail shoes. Mop tried to start, but it was more than he could drag. Down came the stick once more; and this time, made quite wild with pain, he gave one yelp and one jump, broke the old ropes that held him to the cart by a great jerk, and made off down the road like a flash. The bad old man did bawl to him to come back; but Mop was too wise for that, and did not stop to see if the wind was west or not, till he came to a part of the town which was quite new to him.
The place where our dog now found him-self was a sort of blind court, with the blank wall of a house on each side, and, worse than all, with not the sign of a thing to eat to be seen.
"A fly to snap at would be a good thing," said the poor dog with a sigh. "I think I could eat a bit of brick, if I could get one up. But cheer up! it will all come right in time! I'm free at least – that is one good thing!" and he gave three jumps and three barks for joy, so loud that they most took the top of his head off.
Just then there came up, at a smart pace, Frisk the pie-man's dog. He held his head in the air as proud as you like. When he saw Mop, he tried to turn up his nose at him, but it was so flat, there was no turn up to it. Then he gave a loud sniff, and said with an air:
"Who are you? Where did you come from?"
"I am as good a dog as you," said Mop. "My coat is not quite so fine to be sure, and my ears don't stick up so much; but I'm a nice sort of chap for all that. Shake a paw."
"What! shake a paw with such an old flop-ear as you? You must be mad."
Mop did want to say, "You are a pert, stuck-up cur," but he was too well-bred; so he made a bow, and put his paw on his heart; and said: "I meant no wrong; but I took you for Frisk, the pie-man's dog."
"Well, so I am – or so I was, I mean; till last week; but, you see, the trade was too low for a dog of my style – with such ears and such a long tail. I was not made to bark out of the back of a pie-cart at all the rag-tags in town; so I have cut the pie-man, and mean to try high life in some big house. My own aunt lives with a judge; and it will be odd if some rich man does not like my looks, and take me home with him. But I must be off; it would not do to be seen with you, if I hope to rise in the world. A good time to you, my boy. He! he! you are such a beau, you can't fail to cut a dash. G-o-o-d day!"
"Stop a bit!" cried Mop, as Frisk ran off. "You don't think much of me now I see, but time may show me to be the best dog yet. What if we were each to try to find a new place, and meet here in a month from now, to tell what has past in the mean time? Don't you think that would be a nice plan?"
"Oh! I'll do so if you wish!" said Frisk; "but don't ask me to bow when we meet, I beg; it won't do, you know."
"Shake a paw then," said Mop.
Frisk, very loth, put the tip of one claw on Mop's paw. Then the two dogs stood back to back, and, with a one! two!! three!!! off they went as if a mad bull was at their heels.
PART II
THE DOGS MEET ONCE MORE
On the last day of the month, Mop and Frisk, true to their word, came to the place where they last said good-by. But how each one did look to see if his mate were the same dog he last saw!
Mop's coat was rough no more – it shone like silk; his ears were cut; he wore a fine brass neck ring, with a new name on it; and his whole air was that of a dog in luck.
Poor Frisk was so thin that you could count all his ribs. His tail stood up in the air no more. He hung his head and crept close by the wall, as if he did fear some one would beat him if he dared to run or jump.
Good Mop did not look on him with scorn when he saw him in this sad way; but ran up to him on three legs, with one paw held out for "How d'ye do," and his great fly-brush of a tail a-wag for joy.
"Why, Frisk, old dog!" he cried, "how glad I am to see you! How have you been this long time?"
"O Mop!" said Frisk in a sad tone, "will you speak to me now I am so poor? It is I who am not fit to be seen this time."
"Frisk, my good dog," said Mop in a grave tone, "real worth is not a thing of looks. Let me tell you that if I knew you to steal a bone, you would lose my good-will in truth. But I do not look down on dogs if they are poor and good. Come home with me; we can talk more at our ease in my nice house, where you will find some first-rate bones, if you would like them."
"O yes! I guess I would!" cried Frisk.
So the dogs set off on a trot by the side of a fine lake, on the banks of which the town was built. They soon came to a large house, with a court-yard in front, tall green rails all round, and a great gate by which to go in. There was a small gate near the large one, the latch of which Mop could lift with his nose, for Frisk and him-self to pass; and then the dogs ran round to the back of the house. On one side of the yard Frisk saw a fine dog-house, fit for the king, with a roof that ran to a peak, a porch in front, and a dove-cote on a pole on top. In-side there was a heap of clean, warm hay, and on a blue plate were some nice bones.
"There!" said Mop, "don't you call that prime? Help your-self to the bones, Frisk; I can get lots more."
Frisk did not wait to be asked twice, but fell to, and soon made way with the legs of a fowl. When these were gone, kind Mop ran to the house and got a beef-bone for him. Poor Frisk ate as if he was not used to such fine fare, and the good dog Mop, who gave up his own meal to feed Frisk, felt as glad as if he had had it all him-self.
When Frisk had made an end of the bones, he and Mop laid down in the dog-house; and as Frisk had asked him to do so, Mop told his tale, as you shall hear.
But first he asked Frisk to rise, so he could put more of the soft hay on his side. "Do you feel quite warm?" he asked.
"O yes! thank you, dear Mop," said Frisk; "as warm as a toast. You will make me cry, if you are so kind to me. When you were poor, I was a cross dog to you. Oh! I can not bear to think how bad I was;" and a great big tear came out of each of Frisk's eyes, and ran off at the end of his nose.
"Oh! that is all gone. We will be kind old dogs now, and do all the good we can in the world. And now here goes for the grand tale of all my joys and woes since I saw you."
MOP'S
