“‘O sir, that’s only a sample I give you of his sense and clever ways. What I value him so much for it his fidelity to myself, and his attachment to the whole family. As to the children, be they never so small, we can always leave them without fear in his charge for hours; and to crown his good deeds, I must tell you he saved the life of the youngest of the fry. The child was playing close to the water-side, and fell in. There was nobody near, and how the dog found it out we never could tell; he was some distance off, and a few minutes before, when my wife passed that way, she saw him lying asleep, to all appearance as sound as a church door. But he must have heard the little one cry; for, certain it is, he had dragged her out, and was licking her little face and hands when the mother came back from her errand. You’ll not wonder after that to hear that we would one and all of us share our last crust with Boxa.’
“‘I do not, indeed, my good friend,’ said your grandfather; ‘and I must say I should be heartily glad to possess a dog of the breed having the same admirable qualities; for I have just lost my good old terrier, a tried and faithful animal, which I brought with me from England. He died of old age, about a month ago, and sadly shall I miss him.’
“Moir made no answer at the time, but the next day, shortly before his guest departed, the worthy man made his appearance alongside the boat as it was pushing off, and handed in a hamper which, he said, contained a pup of the right sort, if his reverence would please to accept of it. This pup was no other than the mother of Boxa, and an excellent animal she proved to be—faithful, sagacious, and patient; in short, a worthy scion of such a stock.
“I need not, I am sure, by way of conclusion, sing the praises of Boxa herself, for you know as well as I can tell you her many good qualities; and therefore I have only further to say that I hope Newfy—as you have named him—will turn out all that could be wished.”
“Thank you, thank you, dear grandmamma,” said George, who had listened with such fixed attention to the last part of Mrs. Ward’s narrative, that he had not once moved upon his stool; “I am so pleased with my pet, I shall not know how I can thank you enough. I think, if you please, I will run and fetch him out of the kennel, and put him into the basket I brought, hoping you would let me carry him home with me to-night.”
“Do so, George,” said his mother, folding up the handkerchief she had been embroidering, “and in the meantime I will put on my bonnet, for it is time we were on our way home.”
No sooner said than done. In five minutes George and Mrs. Green had said good-bye and were crossing the common in the direction of their own home.