When he saw this the tramp tore his hair with rage, threw clods of mud at him and fairly yelled with fury, while Zip walked out of the water as if no one were near, shook himself dry and trotted off home down the other side of the pond, leaving the tramp lying on his stomach trying to fish his bundle of clothes out of the water.
Suddenly Zip stopped short, pricked up his ears and listened. Yes, he was right! He had heard the doctor's low, peculiar, penetrating whistle. That meant he was about to start on his rounds to see his patients. He never went without Zip sitting up on the seat beside him in his old-fashioned buggy.
Zip loved these daily trips, for he was a most active, nervous, curious, little dog, and always wanted to know what was going on throughout the village, and these rides gave him a splendid opportunity to find out. While the doctor was in visiting his patients, Zip would jump out of the buggy and go around to the back of the house to call on the family's cat or dog, whichever it happened to be. And though you may not know it, these animals in every household know what is going on in the home from garret to cellar, as well as all the family secrets and neighborhood gossip. So you see Zip was a regular news-gatherer, and he not only gathered the news in that way, but he spread it as he went along with the doctor from house to house, so that anyone hearing Zip talk did not need to read the newspaper to find out all the village gossip. He knew of all the births, weddings and funerals as well as the lovers' quarrels long before anyone else, for generally he was on the spot when they happened. Neither did he mind listening when he saw two young people of the opposite sex strolling down some shady lane, or hanging over a garden gate. And like all gossips, he was never happy until he had told someone all the latest news he had gathered.
The one to whom he enjoyed telling things the most was the big, yellow cat that lived at the doctor's and was the special pet of the cook. The cat's name was Tabby, and she was a big, comfortable, good-natured cat who stayed at home and minded her own business. She was also a good listener, which Zip considered one of her best qualities. Like all talkative people, he would rather do the talking and have someone else do the listening. Consequently Tabby just suited him. After he had come back with the doctor from making his last call for the day, Zip and Tabby would curl up on the front porch or on a garden seat and he would talk away into the night or until time for him to make the rounds of the place. This as a watch dog he felt it his duty to do once or twice during the night, while Tabby went to the barn to catch mice.
His especial bit of gossip this night was that two storks had brought twins to Mrs. Brown's home the night before and that the sudden surprise of two babies coming to her house in the middle of the night had made her ill and she had taken to her bed and called the doctor.
"Just like Mrs. Brown to do a thing like that—throw up her hands and give up instead of hustling around heating some milk for the poor little things who must have been hungry after their long journey down from the clouds," sputtered Zip.
To which sage remark Tabby assented.
Another bit of news was that the ladies of the Episcopal Church were going to give a strawberry festival in the Sunday School rooms on Wednesday evening, and all were cordially invited to attend and to bring their friends. Admission, twenty-five cents each.
"This will be nice for us," remarked Zip, "for while Martha is away, we can steal into the milk cellar and lick the cream off the pans. Of course in the morning she will wonder why old Bess, the red cow, did not give as rich milk as usual. But she will think that the chore boy did not feed her enough bran, for she would never suspect Tabby, her pet, of doing such a mean thing!"