“Oh! please,” said Nelly, “do not think
I am not happy—you’re too good;
I never was in such a room,
I never tasted such nice food.
“Only—I do so want to know
What has become of old dog Tray,
Who brought me here—my only friend—
Where is he gone?—oh, tell me, pray.”
“My darling,” said the smiling nurse,
“Your clever dog is safe and well;
The doctor who lives in the house
Has found a place where Tray may dwell.”
Then Nelly gently fell asleep,
And from that moment better grew;
And soon the nurse—her tender friend—
The hapless orphan’s story knew.
Indignant at such cruelty,
The nurse the kindly surgeon seeks,
And of poor Nellie’s hapless lot
With warm, indignant pity speaks.
“What’s the child’s name?” the doctor asked.
“Eleanor Bruce,” the nurse replied;
“Her father was a patient here
For many months before he died.”
“Bruce? Yes, I well remember him,
He told me of a little store
He had laid by for this poor child,
‘Twas thirty pounds, I think, or more.
“The dog has saved poor Nelly’s life,
And brought to light a cruel wrong;
What wondrous instincts, God’s great gift,
To His dumb creatures do belong.”
When Nelly’s broken arm was healed,
The doctor took her to his home;
He could not let the helpless child
About the streets of London roam.
The housekeeper the child attends,
And Tray with wild joy greets her there;
Once more he watches at her side—
They are a glad and happy pair.