The key to Betsy's heart

by Sarah Noble Ives

One morning Betsy went in town with Aunt Kate, leaving Van safe in the kitchen with Mary.

That is, she thought he was safe. Van lay in his basket under the table, until Mary went down in the cellar. Then he arose, and went toward the swinging door that led into the dining-room. He had learned a secret about that door at the time of the yellow-cat episode. He pushed it—very gently. It yielded; a little more—it opened, swung back again, and struck him right on the tip of his little black nose.

He winked hard, and sat back a moment to get his bearings; then he went at it again. With his whole weight thrown against it, it swung widely, and with a dash he was through, and on the other side before it could close again. He was free, with the whole house before him, and no one to say him nay.

But it was not a voyage of discovery on which he was bent. He had business on hand. A young and energetic dog should not be idle, and there was work to do.

Up the stairs he clambered,—that was the hardest of all, for every step must be gained with a stretch, a reach, a hump, and a scramble. At last his little brown head peeped over the top landing, and the way was clear to Betsy’s room.

No hesitation. His duty lay before him. He headed straight for the old footstool, sought out the weakest spot, just where he had left off yesterday. It was no sin; the stool was his very own, and where is the monarch who may not, if he likes, chew his own footstool?

Very quiet and busy he was, for a time. Bit by bit that barrier of heavy carpet warp must be worn away. He had no pick and shovel, like the miners and sappers under a fortress; his only weapons were his sharp little teeth, and the small nails on his forepaws; but he went bravely to work.

He chewed and he chewed; he never paused for a minute; he never gave the enemy an instant to recover lost ground. If he had been a soldier in war-time, he would have been cheered on as a hero, so manfully did he hold to his task.

At last he got a tooth in, and could tear at the strong linen walls. The breach grew wider—there was room for his paw. He inserted it, and drew out a fascinating bit of plunder; curly, woody stuff it was.

A volley of dust from the defense struck him full in the nose and made him sneeze and choke. This opposition only made his spirits soar the higher. Tooth and nail he struck back. He tore down the whole barrier, and rushed in on the defenseless excelsior.