Jeems, on the other hand, leads a guarded life and knows that virtue also has its rewards. I can only hope that Raggety has never communicated to Jeems’s innocent mind the joys of nature and the love of the sex. True follower of nature’s supreme law, how Raggety’s independence and disregard of conventionalities would have delighted the liberty-loving heart of the ardent Jean-Jacques!
Raggety’s Friendships
Along with an ardent temperament, a love of liberty, and a wide sympathy goes a democratic tendency. Quite true to the type, Raggety of unknown pedigree shows his aristocratic stock. No recent upstart can choose his friends as he elects. Only the true aristocrat can be absolutely democratic. If you have a social position to make or maintain, you must be careful that your associates are useful and important in the structure of society; if you are absolutely sure of your own position, your heart may reach up and down and round about and say, “Thou art mine, for I am yours.” And it is thus that Raggety elects his friends.
The Donahues, The Great Man, His Lovely Lady, Belle, Black Henry, the four Brooklyn Aunties of those delicious chocolate crackers, Jeems, Brother-in-Law, all have place in his heart without reference to their place in the social edifice. Happy Raggety, to be free to choose and to refuse! For he will not accept those whom he does not desire. No amount of caressing or blandishment can fix his affections. I have discovered, however, that food and an interest in outdoor exercise attract him, but there must be some personal quality beyond to make this attraction permanent. I have seen both fail; why, I can not explain.
If you should ask Raggety about Black Henry, I know he would reply, “He is my invaluable friend.” Think of being invaluable to some one! Isn’t it what we mortals are all striving to attain? To be valued when present, to be missed when absent is the face-value of the note of friendship. This is the bond between Henry and Raggety.
The first rattle of the coal which Henry brings to renew the fire in the early morning awakes Raggety to the joy of the day. Henry’s arrival means a breath of fresh air and breakfast to follow. Oh! and if one only investigates the glorious mysterious pockets of Henry’s white linen coat! Such tid-bits, shares of Henry’s own breakfasts and luncheons and dinners! Then Henry walks to the post-office when every other stupid person stays at home, so that on rainy days you can get in a walk with him when all others fail.
Often have I seen Raggety kiss the hem of Henry’s trousers in enthusiastic appreciation of some pleasant suggestion about walk or food. Coming in of an evening one finds Henry seated on the hall bench with Raggety beside him,—Henry the silent, the smiling, the serviceable friend. Raggety lifts a forepaw and puts it lovingly on Henry’s knee, saying, “What is race, what is rank between hearts that love? This is my invaluable friend Henry.”
Raggety and The Dear Man Who Passed
Of one of his friendships I must make special mention, because the mortal part of it is no more. The Dear Man lived among Books, and about his Book House stood tall oaks inhabited by bands of quite tame squirrels. They were tame because they were loved by The Man and fed from his hands. I have seen Raggety sit in twitching self-control watching the squirrels feed, divided painfully between his desire to pursue those virtuous squirrels and his love of The Dear Man whose heart he could not grieve by the vain pursuit. When The Book Man wrote his noble tribute to The Dear Man, Raggety appropriately ran into the pages.
The Dear Man went away one summer and never returned, and the squirrels have grown wild and fearful, for the hands that fed them feed them no more.