Betsy could bear it no longer. She had slept no more than had the culprit. She dashed upstairs for a knife with which to cut the hateful burden loose; she tried to lead him up the stairs, but the ordeal had so shaken his nerves that he could not mount the steps.
Then she carried him up in her arms; she gave him a warm bath, and laid him on her own bed. He was mutely grateful, but his shame and disgrace had laid him low.
For three days Van was very ill. Whether it was the shock of the dreadful punishment, or of knowing that his loved ones could treat him so—for still he did not understand—who can tell?
“If he kills all the chickens in the world, I’ll earn the money to pay for them myself,” cried Betsy. “But I can’t stand that look in his poor eyes!”
And there was no one in the whole family but felt that a mistake had been made, that all this had been for nothing. And it was even so. Van was up and around again soon, bright and winsome as ever, but Betsy and Dr. and Mrs. Johns never forgave themselves. Somehow the punishment, terrible as it was, did not bring home its lesson, and in spite of all the suffering, it did not one particle of good. The love of battle, murder, and sudden death was in his blood, and his first training had been all wrong.
The Johns family held another meeting to which Van was not invited, and in it they came to this decision:
That: whereas they could not themselves make a good dog of Vanart VI., he must be sent away to a trainer—to a kind of college where dogs are taught their manners, their tricks, and their duties; and where, if it is not too late, they may unlearn their bad habits and wicked ways.
On that last night before he went away, Mary cooked for Van the most wonderful supper. He reveled in the tid-bits that he coaxed from every one at the dinner table. Best of all, he was permitted to sleep on the foot of Betsy’s bed. He did not know the reason for all this extra indulgence, but he joyfully took the goods the gods provided.
“Kate,” said Dr. Johns, when Betsy had said good-night, and gone to her room, “there’s another letter from that scoundrel. He takes quite a threatening attitude, plays the high and mighty, says we are keeping his child away from him unlawfully. The fond parent wants his beloved child, etc. It is sickening, when we know what he really wants her for, and that she would probably be abused and starved again. He might try to get her in some way. I thought I’d better tell you, so we can be on our guard.”
“What could he do?”