I ran quick to the spot, and there was Nan, white and nearly fainting, and a man—a beast rather—and Dummy struggling together. At the same moment Nick came running round the corner, and flew to Nan and caught her in his arms.
The ruffian, it seemed, had suddenly darted forward and seized Nan, and Dummy, without so much as a growl, had leaped up and fixed his teeth in the brute’s throat. There they lay rolling on the ground, and as I did not wish the dog to kill the villain, I called him off. Dummy relaxed his hold, and as he did so, the brute pulled out a knife and plunged it into the dog’s body. Poor old Dummy! He gave a convulsed gasp, and rolled over.
“Oh, Dummy, poor Dummy!” cried Nan, throwing herself by his side, and raising his head to her lap. “Are you hurt much?”
The faithful creature lifted his eyes to her face, then turned them to me, and fell back dead!
How we all grieved, Nan most of all. She sobbed, as though her heart was breaking, and I kept my own feelings in check so as not to make her worse. I could not leave my duties, and they carried the devoted creature to my lodgings, and remained up with him all the night, till I came home.
“It is a brave death,” I said to Nan, and did my best to comfort her.
“She sobbed as though her heart was breaking.”
We buried Dummy the next night, and you may guess how I missed him. You may guess, too, how much closer this sad event drew us to each other. On every Sunday afternoon now, Nick and Nan would come to tea with me, and the hours we spent together were to me the happiest in the week. Nick read to us the books he loved best, and would talk of them in a way it would have surprised you to hear.
