"I'm afraid he was only a mongrel; he was big, and grey, and shaggy, but we thought him lovely. There never was another so nice."
"Not even Scamp?"
"No, not quite. Jock was such a friend, and so obedient and gentle. We got him from a farm when he was a tiny puppy; the farmer was just going to drown him, but Oswald begged so hard to be allowed to keep him instead, that Mother said he might. Our nurse was quite angry at first; she said he'd be as much trouble as another child to look after, but he was so good, she soon grew fond of him, and he used to live in the nursery. Artie was a baby then, and Jock would keep guard over his cradle, or watch him when he was put to roll on a rug in the garden, and no matter how much Artie pulled his hair, he never dreamt of biting. He used to sleep on the mat at the door of our bedroom, and the first thing in the morning he'd come running in, wagging his tail.
"One summer we went to stay at Llandudno, and Mother said we musn't take Jock with us, because the people at the lodgings wouldn't care to have him. We were dreadfully sorry to leave him behind, and I'm sure he knew we were going without him, for he cried so. Father said he must be tied up in the stable to prevent him from following the trap, and we all went to say goodbye to him; even Nellie, our nurse, kissed him on the nose. We missed him so much that evening when we got to Llandudno, but next morning, when we were sitting at breakfast, we heard a whining and scratching at the door, and in rushed Jock, with about half a yard of rope dangling at his neck. He must have gnawed it through, and set off after us. But wasn't it clever of him to know where we'd gone, and to find out the very house where we were staying? Father said he must have heard us talking about Llandudno, and have asked all the other dogs he met on the road which was the right way! Mother was afraid we should have to send him home again, but when the landlady heard what he'd done, she allowed him to stay, and he went everywhere with us, and was no trouble to anybody.
"One day Nellie took us a long walk on the Great Orme's Head. We had baskets with us, and we wandered about picking blackberries the whole afternoon. Artie was quite a little fellow then, not more than three years old; he hadn't even been put into knickerbockers. I suppose we were so busy filling our baskets that nobody noticed him; at any rate he managed to run away from Nellie, and go close to the edge of the cliff where there were some blackberries growing. We think he must have been trying to lean down to gather them, and have overbalanced himself, because we suddenly heard him shrieking at the pitch of his voice, and when we rushed to see what was the matter, there was our baby hanging over the cliffside, just caught by the brambles, and Jock holding on to his kilt like grim death. Artie was howling, and Jock was making the queerest noise; he couldn't bark properly, because he daren't open his mouth for fear of letting go Artie's clothes. Nellie pulled them both back together, and sat down on the grass and cried, and we all hugged Jock and kissed him. Mother said afterwards she thought he must have been allowed to find his way to Llandudno on purpose to save Artie's life.
"After that, of course, he was a greater pet even than he'd been before, and we never went away from home without taking him. Granny used to put in a special invitation to Jock when she asked us, and she made him a little cake once on his birthday, and sent it to him by post. He ate it in three gulps.
"We were so dreadfully sorry when he died. Hilda said she'd like to go into mourning, and Artie and I inked black edges to some sheets of tiny notepaper, and wrote on them to tell Granny and Aunt Edith. We had a beautiful funeral for him, and made wreaths to lay on his grave, and planted the prettiest flowers we could dig up out of our gardens on it. It was Oswald who thought of the stone during the Easter holidays. It wasn't finished until Hilda had gone back to London, so she hasn't seen it yet. I'm sure she'll like it."
There seemed so many interesting things to see and hear at Garth Avon that the two girls amused themselves out-of-doors until after seven o'clock, when they heard a brisk ringing of bells, and, running to the gate, were just in time to open it for Linda's brothers, who came riding up on their bicycles. Oswald was a few years older than Linda, and Artie a little younger; both were nice hearty boys, who seemed ready to make friends at once with their sister's visitor.
"We've heard such a jolly lot about you, you know," said Oswald, shaking hands. "Lin can talk of nobody else. We always say the school must be made up of Sylvia and Miss Kaye."
"You're late, aren't you?" asked Linda. "We thought you'd have been here an hour ago."