WILLIAM HENRY BUYS A DOG.

Observer, Volume 9, Issue 530, 16 February 1889, Page 12

WILLIAM HENRY BUYS A DOG.

' A NNA MABIA,' said William Henry, imjljL pressively, as he brushed his hat, P re P ar : atory to going down town, • do I look like a tool I Is there anything particularly soft about tne expression of my countenance ?' „ • Why, no, dear, I-I-don't think so, said Mrs W.H., slowly, ' but why do you ask > • Simply because I am the laughing-stock of the town. Wherever Igo I run aoross fellows who grin and say : " So, I see they have been putting you in the Obsekvek. It's all on account of that confounded cat of yours. It really is enough to make a man swear. •It was your own fault, dear. You left the cupboard door open, or it would never have happened.' ' Oh, yes, put it down to me, of course. That's just like you women. Well, I'm going to get you a pet to supply the lost one's place. Wait until to-night.' ' Oh, thank you, dear,' she said, while inwardly reflecting that no pet procurable could ever fill the aching void left by the defunct torn. William Henry was as good as his word. He came home dragging a dog by a piece of cord made fast to the animal's neck. It was an ungainly dog, large and clumsy as to size, and very much mixed as to breed. It might have been a sheep dog; it had a dash of poodle about the hindquarters, and a suspicion of spaniel about the head, while the gaunt legs spoke of a touch of greyhound. But William Henry was proud of that dog. • There,' said he, triumphantly, as the brute sat down on its haunches and lolled out its tongue, ' what d'ye think of that?' 1 He's— he's— very nice, dear, 1 said Mrs W.H., dubiously. ' Bah— nice !' observed William Henry, contemptuously, ' nice ! What d'ye mean by nice ? It's such a girly-girly kind of expression !' 'What kind of a dog is he, dear?' enquired Mrs W.H., without venturing to reply to the last question. ' Well,' said William Henry, regarding his purchase with the eye of a connoisseur, ' the man I bought him from said he was an Italian bull-dog. He said he was a very rare breed, and anyone can see that with half an eye, without being told. Even you know enough about dogs to tell that, hey?' ' Is he good-tempered ?' asked Mrs W.H. • Best-tempered dog you ever saw. Quiet as a lamb. But you anger him and you'll find out what he can do. A man wouldn't have much chance with him when he's roused, I tell you.' •He isn't very— very— pretty, is he ?' timidly ventured Mrs W.H., as she stooped to pat the Italian bull-dog's head. 'Pretty!' exclaimed William Heniy, with withering contempt, ' you don't want prettiness in a dog, unless he's one of those little toy things you women are so fond of— fluffy, snappy, vicious little devils that one longs to kick. Lion — that's this fellow's name,' indicating the Italian animal—' is a good dog, and his late owner told me that he took a first prize at the last dog show at the Drill Shed. He says his price in the catalouge was £50.' ' I hope you didn't give £50 for him V anxiously enquired Mrs W.H. •No, I didn't,' said William Henry, 'don't alarm yourself. His owner is leaving the colony, and said that all he wanted was a kind home for the dog, where he would be well treated. So he let me have him for a five-pound note. What on earth are you giggling at, Anna Maria ?' • N — n — nothing, dear,' replied the better half, only I am glad you didn't give more for him.' ' Oh,' remarked William Henry, as he prepared to tie up the Italian bull-dog in the back garden, • women don't understand dogs. I tell you this dog is a bargain.' 'A great dog like that will cost a great deal to keep, won't he ?' asked Mrs William Henry, when the tying up process was completed. 'He won't cost anything,' snapped W.H. ' He'll live on the scraps you throw away, and get as fat as butter, and I pity the burglar that gets near Mm. There won't be enough of him left to swear by. The boys will never dare to touch those pears in the back garden now.' # * * The next morning the pear tree was stripped ; not a pear left. The boys had made an easy haul. 'He hasn't got used to the place yat, 1 said William Henry; 'give him time.' The next day a book canvasser called around in William Henry's absence. Mrs W.H., who hates book canvassers, called to Lion. He came out of his kennel to the full length of his chain, a»d for a moment looked quite fc-rocious. But the aicm^nt the canvasser shouttd at him, his tail coiled round hid legs, and he re-turned to his kennel. 'We must let him oft' the chain, 1 said William Henry, ' he doesn't gtt a show.' And so he was liberated. Next morning the next door neighbour called round with a bill. ' What's this ?' enquired the astonished William Henry, as he unfoided the paper, ' four hens at half-a-crown each, and two chickens at a shilling ? You must be making a mistake. I never had any of your poultry. 1 ' It' you didn't, your mongrel did.' was the reply, ' and I'll trouble you for the money.' Twelve shillings changed hands. The same day the butcher round the corner called in to obtain compensation for a leg of mutton, feloniously abstracted by the Italian bull-dog. Two days after that the Italian bull-dog chased a cat through the other next door neighbour's conservatory. The bill this time was only 27s— for broken glass. Then William Henry's angry passions rose, and he went out and kicked the Italian bull-dog, after which he turned him adrift, and washed his hand.3 of him. But he had misgivings 'about him. Who knew what fresh enormity he might not perpetrate, W.H. being held responsible ? That night at tea, Mrs W.H. said : 'Do you know what has become of Lion ? Garrard walked off with him just after you left this morning.' And William Henry leaned cack a::d murmured : ' Thank Heaven!' C.A.W.