“Its grandmother you should say, my dear,” replied Mrs. Ward; “Boxa’s mother came over with me from Newfoundland, and a wonderful animal she was for cleverness and beauty; but after all, she could not compare with dear old Box, her sire. He was a marvel of sagacity, and did feats which I really believe have never been surpassed.”
While the old lady was speaking, her grandson had jumped in at the window, and was standing beside her, eagerly listening.
“You know, dear grandmamma,” he said, “this is my birthday, and I have come to spend half of it with you and aunt; and, first, we are to have a walk, then to take tea together, and, to finish up, you will tell me all about Newfoundland and what you have seen there, ending with the history of the wonderful dog.”
“Stay, stay, my love,” said Mrs. Ward; “it is impossible that I should tell you all I have seen in Newfoundland. I can, however, give you an account of some of your dear grandfather’s missionary journeys, in which he met with many adventures, and, at the close of one trip, fell in with the good man to whom the wonderful dog Box belonged.”
“That’s just what I should like,” said George; and immediately he hastened to find his grandmother’s bonnet and shawl, in which she was quickly arrayed for the walk. [Illustration]
It was a bright sunshiny afternoon, and as the little party strolled through the village street, they found half the women and children of the place, sitting in the doorways, or playing about on the roadside. By-and-by they came to the green, where there was a crowd of boys just turned out of school, a large knot of them clustering round a little Italian boy, who had found his way to the village with his hurdy-gurdy, upon which he was playing, while, tied to a string, he carried a little monkey, perched upon his shoulder. George was eager to join the group and see the antics of Jacko, who sat grinning and holding a little cap for money, into which a boy flung a halfpenny, and then asked the Italian where he came from. But the answer was unintelligible to him, for it was given in a strange tongue, and George was soon tired of listening to the music and watching the monkey.
In the meantime his grandmother had walked on, accompanied by her daughter, and they were now slowly crossing the common. A few minutes’ brisk run brought George to their side, when he began chatting about the boy and his monkey.
“I have no liking for those animals,” said Mrs. Ward; “indeed, the very sight of a monkey makes me shudder with a feeling of aversion. I once saw a trick played by one of them which made a lasting impression upon my mind.”
“Tell me about it, dear grandma,” said George, “while you rest for a while under this warm hedge upon your camp-stool which I have brought for you.”