Of course, the dog wasn't mad, but somebody had started the story; and Ross says give a horse, cow, dog, cat, or any creature that cannot speak for itself, a bad name and it is worse than killing it outright. Well, Master fed and petted the half-dead creature, and finally brought him home to Chet and Carm, Dr. Fred's boys.
Grim was quite a character in his way and much respected, inasmuch as he gave warning once in the night when the house was on fire, and saved the little daughter of a neighbor when a vicious cow was about to gore her.
Dr. Dick says that either here or hereafter all kind deeds shall be rewarded; "and unkind ones, too," he usually adds.
As the nights became cold, Grim left the rug on the front porch and came to the barn. I invited him to sleep in my manger and soon we became intimate friends.
One night when the other horses—that is, the bays—were out and Ross so far off that our talk would not disturb him, I asked Grim about his early life.
"Well," he said, "there is not much to tell. I cannot remember when I did not live in the pretty brown cottage on South street, in the city where Dr. Dick found me. My constant playmate was a little girl with sunny curls and a sweet face. Ruthie her name was. They were all kind to me there, feeding and petting me continually, but one day something happened, I don't know what, but Ruthie and her mother went off in a strange carriage early in the afternoon. I watched for their return, but it came on dark and master came home, and still they weren't there. I trotted around after him until he picked up a letter that lay on the dining table. I noticed that his fingers trembled and he grew very white as he read it. At last he began rushing madly about the room, crushing the letter in his hands and fairly hissing.
"Suddenly he dropped on his knees beside me and gathering me in his arms, sobbed out: 'I am going to find Ruthie, Brownie [I was called Brownie then] and maybe I'll——,' but he did not finish the sentence. He was in the bedroom awhile, then he came out, dressed for traveling, told me to go out, went out himself, locked the door and was soon lost to sight in the darkness. I could not understand, but felt that some dreadful thing had happened. I did not feel hungry that night, nor did I sleep much. In the morning I dug up a buried bone and made a very poor breakfast. Night found me still more lonely and hungry. Thus many days passed, and I was obliged to beg my meals at the neighbor's over the way. Such a sad life as I led, lying most of the time on the porch guarding the shut door. I felt myself responsible. Toward fall a strange man and woman came, unlocked the doors and took possession; but they would have nothing to say to me, only to bid me 'begone.' It all seemed worse yet. While the house was alone I felt that I had a home, but now I was ordered from even my old rug. No wonder that I got poor and thin and people thought that I acted strangely. I heard the woman tell a neighbor that she and her husband had rented the house, all furnished, till spring. She grew more unkind to me every day, and was always wondering what that 'horrid dog hung skulking around for.' Once her husband told her that it was because it was my home. 'Well,' she said, 'it ain't now, and I'll have him shot, or I'll scald him if he don't keep away.'
"I am sure she was the one to start the story about my being mad.
"Well, I was saved by Dr. Dick, and I love him and all that belongs to him as only a grateful dog can love."