He slept every night at the foot of Harry's bed, had his little bowl of water (with a piece of yellow sulphur in it) in the corner, and in one compartment of Edith's bureau was a stock of ribbons of all colors and widths, designed to increase doggie's natural attractions on festive occasions.
One of these latter occurred on a bright day in the spring, when the Townsend family, the Fans' next-door neighbors, came over to lunch.
There were four of them: the mother, a pale, sickly lady, who only went out on pleasant days; Win, a tall youth of fifteen; Clara, the only daughter, and of Edith's age; and last, but by no means least, the baby, who was still so young that his first name was not yet decided upon, but who nevertheless fairly ruled the great house next door.
Well, this sunshiny day in the spring was Saturday, so the children on both sides of the hedge had plenty of time to visit and receive, and while the two ladies remained in the sitting-room with the French nurse and the American baby, Harry and Clara, Edith and Win, flew up and down the garden, playing colors, I-spy, and tag, with Spice at their heels barking furiously, little thinking of the tragic scenes in which he was soon to become the principal actor.
When lunch was announced, Mrs. Farr, Mrs. Townsend, and the four young people gathered about the well-spread table, while nurse, Baby Townsend, and Spice kept one another company in the sitting-room.
It must be confessed that the latter was not overpleased at the arrangement, but as Harry had told him to stay, and as he was a very obedient little dog, he determined to do as he was bid with the best possible grace, so he meekly allowed Baby to rub his coat the wrong way, pull his hair, and twist his tail to its little heart's content.
"Marie! Marie!" Mrs. Townsend's voice was suddenly heard calling from the dining-room, and in response the French nurse hastened to ascertain her lady's commands, leaving Baby in his corner on the sofa, where he had been securely fenced in by his careful mamma.
Now all that Mrs. Townsend wanted of Marie was to ask her if she was positive that the French word for ink was of the feminine gender, and in that instant's absence of the faithful maid something awful happened; for she had scarcely returned to the sitting-room, when she gave a piercing scream that at once brought everybody from the table, some with napkins pinned around their necks, others flourishing knives and forks in their hands, and all endeavoring to swallow as quickly as possible whatever they happened to have in their mouths.
And what a sight they saw! Baby Townsend lay back among his pillows, serenely sucking the middle finger of his left hand, which was bleeding, and the blood was spreading itself over the infant's face in a manner shocking to behold, while Spice sat gravely by looking on with curious eyes, and the French nurse stood wringing her hands in helpless horror.
For a moment they all stood as if rooted to the carpet, and then Mrs. Townsend, with one hand snatching up her baby, and with the other pointing to Spice, cried, "There! that dog did it, and he'll—that is, my child will—oh!" and the poor lady began to cry hysterically, while Edith rushed to gather up Spice in her arms, and Harry hastened to make an examination of the accused.