Jack, the Fire Dog

by Lily F. Wesselhoeft

“Father is tired to-night,” said the mother in a low tone to the children, “so you must be very good and quiet.”

The children knew by experience that when Father was tired he was always cross and easily irritated. Mother was often tired, too, but it did not make her cross, and the children learned to keep out of the way as much as possible when Father came home “tired,” as he so often did.

There was never much conversation when Father was “tired,” and Toby in his dark hiding-place could hear the rattling of dishes and could smell the delicious odor of the sausages. Father had not been expected so early, and Mother had bought a nice piece of steak for his supper, but there was not time to cook it then, so the supply of sausages was rather short. Each of the children, as was their custom since Toby had been an inmate of the family, saved a little piece for him; but they were very fond of sausages, and they did not have such luxuries very often, so it really required no little sacrifice on their part. As for Maysie, the piece she laid aside for Toby grew smaller and smaller as she made up her mind to take just one more taste and then another. At last it dwindled down to almost the size of a pea, and Maysie said to herself,—

“It isn’t worth while to save such a little piece, it won’t be even a taste;” so she ate that too.

The mother, however, seeing how small a portion the little dog was likely to receive, ate very little of her portion.

At last the silence was broken by Maysie, who could never keep still very long.

“There was a fire to-day right back of our schoolhouse, mother,” she said, “and there were ever and ever so many engines there, and do you mind the big black and white dog that came to our fire and found little blind Billy? Well, he was there, too, and I patted him and he was very kind to me.”

“He probably belonged to one of the engines,” replied Mother. “I have heard that dogs sometimes do and that they go to fires whenever the engine goes.”

“And a fine nuisance they must be, too!” muttered Father. “The men must be fools to stand it. They always manage to get in the way when they are least wanted.”

Now Toby from the next room had heard every word of the conversation. When Maysie told about the black and white dog that belonged to one of the fire-engines, Toby at once recalled the dog answering to that description whom he had seen lying in front of the engine-house, and who had taken such an interest in him. When he heard Father speaking of him as a “nuisance,” it was too much for Toby, and, forgetting that he was not to show himself, he darted through the partly opened door, and boldly presenting himself before the startled family, declared that it was not true, that the black and white engine-dog was not a nuisance, but a kind and obliging fellow!