Second Syllable.
Lady in morning-dress and jaunty breakfast-cap, sadly leaning her head on her hand. On table near is toast, chocolate, &c. Enter Maggie with tray.
Maggie. Ate a bit, mum, ate a bit. ’T will cheer ye up like!
Lady (looking up). No, no, I cannot eat. O, the precious darling! It is now seventeen hours since I saw him last. Ah, he’s lost!
Maggie. And did ye slape at arl, mum?
Lady. Scarcely, Maggie. And in dreams I saw my darling, chased by rude boys, or at the bottom of deep waters, in filthy mud, eaten by fishes, or else mauled by dreadful cats. Take away the untasted meal. I cannot, cannot eat.
Exit Maggie with breakfast things. Enter Mike with newspapers.
Mike. Mornin’ paper, mum.
Lady (catching it, and looking eagerly up and down its columns). Let me see if he is found. O, here! “Found! A diamond pin on—” Pshaw, diamond pin! Here it is. “Dog found! Black and tan—” Faugh, black and tan! My beauty was pure white. But, Mike where’s the notice of our darling’s being lost?
Mike. Shure, an’ it’s to the side o’ the house I put it, mum, arl writ in illegant sizey litters, mum.
Lady (in alarm). And didn’t you go to the printers at all?
Mike. Shure an’ be n’t it better out in the brard daylight, mum, laning aginst th’ ’ouse convanient like, an’ aisy to see, mum?
Lady. O Mike, you’ve undone me! Quick! Pen, ink, and paper. Quick! I say.
Exit Mike.
Lady (solus). It was but yesterday I held him in these arms! He licked my face, and took from my hand the bits of chicken, and sipped of my chocolate. His little black eyes looked up, O so brightly! to mine. His little tail, it wagged so happy! O, dear, lovely one, where are you now?
Enter Mike, with placard on long stick, with these words in very large letters.
☞ Dog Lost! V Dollus! ReeWarD! InnQuire Withinn! Live oR DED!!!
Reads it aloud, very slowly, pointing with finger.
Mike. An’ it’s meeself larned the fine writin’, mum, in th’ ould counthry.
Lady (excited). Pray take that dreadful thing away, and bring me pen and paper!
Exit Mike, muttering. Knock heard at door.
Lady. Come!
Enter Market-Man, in blue frock.
Market-man. Good day, ma’am. Heard you’d lost a dog.
Lady (eagerly, with hand extended). Yes, yes! Where is he?
Market-man. Was he a curly, shaggy dog?
Lady. Yes! O yes! Where did you find him?
Market-man. Was your dog bright and playful?
Lady (in an excited manner). O, very! very!
Market-man. Answered to the name of Carlo?
Lady. Yes! He did! he did! O, if I had him in these arms!
Market-man (in surprise). Arms, ma’am? Arms? ’T is a Newfoundland dog! He could carry you in his arms!
Lady (dejected). O cruel, cruel disappointment!
Market-man. What kind of a dog was yours?
Lady. O, a dear little lapdog. His curls were white and soft as silk!
Market-man (going). Good day, ma’am. If I see him, I’ll fetch him.
Exit Market-Man. Mike enters with writing materials, and goes out again. Lady begins to write, repeating the words she writes aloud.
Lady. Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly—(Tap at door.) Come!
Enter stupid-looking Boy, in scanty jacket and trousers, and too large hat.
Lady. Did you wish to see me?
Boy (drawling). Yes, ma’am.
Boy. Yes, ma’am.
Lady. Have you found one?
Boy. Yes, ma’am.
Lady. Is it a very small dog?
Boy. Yes, ma’am.
Lady. Sweet and playful?
Boy. Yes, ma’am?
Lady. Did you bring him with you?
Boy. Yes, ma’am (pointing). Out there.
Lady (excited). O, bring him to me. Quick! O, if it should be he! If it should! (Boy brings in small dog, yellow or black or spotted.)
Lady (in disgust). O, not that horrid creature! Take him away! Take him away!
Boy. Isn’t that your dog?
Lady. No! no! O, can’t you take the horrid animal away?
Boy (going). Yes, ma’am.
Exit Boy with dog. Lady prepares to write.
Lady. Stupid thing! Now I’ll write. (Repeats.) Lost, strayed, or stolen. A curly, white—(Tap at the door.) Come! (Lays down pen.)
Enter ragged Boy, with covered basket.
Lady. Have you found a dog?
Boy. No, I hain’t found no dog.
Lady. Then what do you want?
Boy. Father sells puppies. Father said if you’d lost your dog, you’d want to buy one of ’em. Said you could take your pick out o’ these ’ere five. (Opens basket for her to look in.)
Lady (shuddering). Little wretches! Away with them!
Boy. They’ll grow, father said, high’s the table.
Lady. Carry them off, can’t you?
Boy. Father wants to know what you’ll take for your dog, running. Father said he’d give a dollar, an’ risk the ketchin’ on him.
Lady. Dollar? No. Not if he were dead! Not if I knew he were drowned, and the fishes had eaten him, would I sell my darling pet for a paltry dollar!
Boy (going). Good mornin’. Guess I’ll be goin’. If I find your dog, I won’t (aside) let you know.
Exit Boy, with bow and scrape.
Lady (writes again, and repeats). Lost, strayed, or stolen. A cur—(Knock at the door.) Come! (Lays down pen.)
Enter Mrs. Mulligan.
Mrs. Mulligan. An’ is it yourself lost a dog, thin?
Lady (eagerly). Yes. A small, white, curly, silky dog. Have you seen him?
Mrs. Mulligan. Och, no. But’t was barkin’ all night he was, behint th’ ’ouse. An’ the b’ys,—that’s me Pat an’ Tim, they drooned him, mum, bad luck to ’em, in the mornin’ arly.
Lady. And did you see him?
Mrs. Mulligan. No, shure.
Lady. And where is he now?
Mrs. Mulligan. O, it’s safe he is, Pat tould me, to the bottom o’ No Bottom Pond, mum.
Lady. And how do you know ’t is my dog?
Mrs. Mulligan. Faith, an’ whose dog should it be, thin?
Lady. Send your boys, and I’ll speak with them.
Mrs. Mulligan (going). I’ll send them, mum. Mornin’ mum.
Exit Mrs. Mulligan. Another tap at the door.
Lady. O, this is not to be borne! Come!
Enter Countrywoman with bandbox,—not an old woman.
Lady (earnestly). If it’s about a dog, tell me all you know at once! Is he living?
Countrywoman. Yes’m, but he’s quite poorly. I think dogs shows their sickness, same as human creturs do. Course they have their feelin’s.
Lady. Do tell quick.
Countrywoman. Just what I want, for I’m in a hurry myself. So I’ll jump right inter the thick on ’t. You see last night when my old man was ridin’ out o’ town in his cart, with some o’ his cabbages left over, for garden sarse hadn’t been very brisk all day, and he was late a comin’ out on account o’ the off ox bein’ some lame, and my old man ain’t apt to hurry his critters, for a marciful man is marciful to his beasts, you—
Lady. But about the dog!
Countrywoman. Wal, the old man was a ridin’ along, slow, you know,—I alwers tell him he’ll never set the great pond afire,—and a countin’ over his cabbageheads and settlin’ the keg o’ molasses amongst ’em, and a little jug of—(nods and winks and smiles),—jest for a medicine, you know. For we never do,—I nor the old man,—never, ’xcept in case o’ sickness.
Lady (impatiently). But what about the dog?
Countrywoman. Wal, he was a ridin’ along, and jest got to the outskirts o’ the town, when he happened to see two boys a squabblin’ which should have a dog,—a little teenty white curly mite of a cretur—
Lady. Yes! Go on! Go on!
Countrywoman. And he asked ’em would they take fifty cents apiece and give it up. For he knew ’t would be rewarded in the newspapers. And they took the fifty.
Lady (eagerly). And what did he do with him? Where is he now?
Countrywoman. Why, I was goin’ to ride in with the old man this mornin’ to have my bunnet new done over, and I took the dog along. And we happened to see that ’ere notice, and he and I together, we spelt it out! (Opening bandbox.) Now look in here! Snug as a bug, right in the crown o’ my bunnet Seems poorly, but he’ll pick up. (Takes out a white lapdog.)[A]
[A] A white lapdog may be easily made of wool and wire.
Lady (snatches him, and hugs and kisses him). ’T is my Carlo. O my precious, precious pet! Ah, he is too weak to move. I must feed him and put him to sleep. (Rises to go out.)
Countrywoman. But the five dollars, marm!
Lady. O, you must call again. I can’t think of any paltry five dollars, now. (Exit.)
Countrywoman (calling out). I’ll wait, marm!
Enter Mike.
Mike. An’ what bisness are ye doin’ here?
Countrywoman. Waiting for my pay.
Mike. Pay, is it? Och, she’ll niver pay the day. She’s owin’ me wages, an’ owin’ the cook, and Mrs. Flarty that scoors, and the millinery lady, an’ ’t is “Carl agin,” she sez. “Carl agin. Can’t ye carl agin?”
Countrywoman. Then I’ll get mine now. (Takes off shawl, and sits down. Takes out long blue stocking, and goes to knitting, first pinning on her knitting-sheath.) I don’t budge, without the pay.
Mike looks on admiringly. Curtain drops.