Little Greta of Denmark

by Bernadine Bailey

Greta was so upset that she couldn't say a word.

"Come on, Greta. We shall have to go and hunt for him," said the practical Anna. "You go in one direction and I'll go in the other, and we'll meet here at Christiansborg in one hour."

There wasn't anything for Greta to do but to start looking. There was no use in telling Anna that she didn't know one street from another. There was no use in saying that she didn't have the faintest idea of where to look. Anna had already started in the other direction and Greta heard her calling, every now and then, "Here, Chouse. Come, Chouse."

So Greta started off bravely by herself. Christiansborg was built on a small island, so she crossed the Marble Bridge to the mainland and began walking slowly along the street by the side of the water. The shore was lined with fishing boats and on the sidewalk there were hundreds of little stands where the women were selling fresh fish which they took right out of the boats. Now and then Greta stopped to ask one of them if she had seen a little black and white dog. Not a one of them had seen him.

Greta decided that Chouse had not come along this street, so she walked back to the bridge and started down another street. Soon she came into a large open square filled with fruit and vegetable stands. The housewives of Copenhagen came here every morning during the summer to get the finest of fresh foods. Greta went from one stand to another, asking if they had seen her dog. Surely someone had seen him. Finally she came to the very last stand, where a pretty girl was selling flowers. By this time tears had filled Greta's eyes and there was such a lump in her throat that she could hardly speak.

"Why, yes," said the pretty girl. "I did see a little black and white dog not very long ago, but I don't know which way he went from here."

Greta smiled happily at this news. At last she was on the right trail. She left the market and took one of the narrow, winding streets that led through the main business district. Every little while she called, "Here, Chouse. Come, Chouse." But no little dog came in answer to her call. Maybe she had taken the wrong street after all.

Half blinded with tears she started across one of the large open squares. When part way across she saw Chouse trotting down the street ahead of her. Greta started to run and almost bumped into a bicycle. She was not used to city streets, crowded with bicycles and automobiles. By the time she had crossed the square, Chouse had disappeared.