Five weeks before this Murphy had been taken ill. Nobody appeared to know what was the matter with him, except that he was restless, refused his food, and looked wrong in his coat. The very spirit there was in him misled others: he would hunt birds under the smallest provocation; rabbits were not animals to be given up so long as there was breath in the body; that finest of games, working to the hand, was to be played to the last day, for was it not the jolliest of fun for both, and did not his master laugh loudly when it was all over, and he skipped and barked and jumped himself, asking for just one more turn? It was only the chicken-hearted that gave up; life was to be lived to the very last minute, especially when so full of fun and happiness as his. If he flagged and was tired after these doings, it was only the hot weather: he would be all right tomorrow. So he was kept quiet for a week.
But the morrow came, and he was less full of life than on the day before. There was something evidently wrong; though advice was asked, and with little gain. His bright eyes had grown dull now, and he refused all food. It was time to call in the best opinion that could be had.
“Distemper. Pneumonia; and the heart also affected.” That was the verdict. There was just a chance for him. It would be a risk to move him so far; but it was perhaps worth it, as treatment could then be followed properly: in establishments of the kind all animals were tended with as much care and skill as patients in a hospital.
So Murphy was taken away. How suddenly it had all come about. And now three weeks had gone by; and the dog still lived.
“How’s he doing, Bill?”
“No difference to my mind, as I can see.”
“We must save him, if we can, Bill. She was here again to-day, and said the dog was such a very valuable one that she didn’t know what would happen if he died.”
“I judged something of the kind,” remarked Bill. “I’ve got a cousin, over their way: shepherd to Mr. Phipps—him as has Fair Mile Farm. You knows. He come in with him—’twus last Saturday’s market—over some tegs; and he called in here, and I do believes ’twus to ask how this un here wus. Said he’d allus liked un. Seemed to know all about un. Said as he and the gen’leman as owns un wus allus together; that he couldn’t get about like some; and that he and this dog here was never apart, and seemed to hang together, curious ways like. They’d got some name for the two of ’em down in that part—so he says; but I a’most forgets what ’twus now.”
“So I understand. One or two have been to call to ask after him, up at the office, and said much the same.”
“Been here himself, hasn’t he?” inquired Bill.