SOME OF MY LITTLE FRIENDS:
ALEC AND ELFIE.
In giving you an account of Alec, one of my little boy friends, I must give you at the same time an account of Elfie, one of my little dog friends, for the two are inseparable. Both these friends of mine are Scotch; and I met them first when the little boy was yet in petticoats, and the doggie a tiny little puppy that had just left its mother.
The two young things grew up together, Elfie, the dog, becoming every day more of a companion for Alec, the boy. But the dog grew old the fastest, and when the event I am going to tell you of occurred, Alec was about nine years old and Elfie about seven; which is in fact quite old for a dog, and an age at which he is likely to be as wise as ever he will be.
Alec had no brother, but he had a cousin at whose house he used to spend a good deal of his time. Little Arthur was about four years younger than Alec, and would follow him about like his shadow, looking up to his big cousin as an authority on all matters. He learnt from Alec to consider Elfie the most wonderful dog in the world, with more sense than most people. He thought Elfie understood everything that was said to him, and could do almost everything he was told to do. Many an hour the three would spend together; and Alec and Arthur never appeared tired of seeing Elfie go through the common dog’s trick with a piece of sugar on his nose. When the word “Trust” was said to him, he let the sugar remain on the tip of his nose, while he only squinted at it with all his might. Directly he heard the words “Paid for” he would jerk it into the air, and snap it up as it fell. This is how the three are amusing themselves, you see, in the picture.
One morning when it was very hot, Arthur’s mamma and I were sitting under the shade of some trees in the garden, working and reading. We knew that little Arthur was about somewhere in the garden or the grounds with his cousin Alec, who, we thought, was old enough to keep the little one out of harm’s way. Suddenly we heard a sound of panting and puffing, and saw Elfie tearing across the garden towards us. With his short legs and long hair he appeared as if he was rolling over the ground: his little red tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and we could see his bright eyes gleaming with excitement through the overhanging locks of hair.
“What can be the matter with the dog?” exclaimed Arthur’s mamma, jumping up. “Has he gone mad?”
As she spoke, Elfie began barking furiously, and seizing her dress in his mouth, tried to drag her away. A thought struck me, and I cried out,—“Something is wrong with the boys, and Elfie has come to let us know!”