Part 20 (1/2)

'I watched them till they were quite out of sight. Then I turned to my mother.

'”I have made two friends here any way, mamma,” I said. ”The trots are sure to stop every time they pa.s.s. It will be something to watch for.”

'Mamma smiled. She was pleased to see _me_ pleased and interested, for she had been beginning to fear that the dulness and strangeness of our new life would prevent St. Austin's doing me as much good as she had hoped.

'”To-morrow, dear,” she said, ”if it is fine, I hope you will be able to go a little walk, and we'll look out for your little friends.”

'It was fine the next day, and we did go out, and we did meet the trots!

'They caught sight of me (of Gip, rather, I should perhaps say) and I of them, just about the same moment. I saw them tug their nurse, and when they got close up to me they stopped short. It was no use Bessie's trying to get them on; there they stood resolutely, till the poor girl's face grew red, and she looked quite ashamed. Gip, who I must say, had a wonderful amount of tact, ran up to them with a friendly little bark.

Bessie let go the trots' hands and stooped to stroke him.

'”He won't bite, miss, will he?” she said gently, looking up at me.

'”Oh, dear, no,” I said, and the trots, smiling with delight, stooped--not that they had so very far to stoop--to stroke him too.

'”Pretty doggie,” said Doll.

'”Pretty doggie,” said Dot.

'Then they held up their dear little mouths to kiss me. ”Zank zou, lady,” they said, and each taking a hand of Bessie again, they proceeded on their way.

'After that day, not many pa.s.sed without my seeing them, and talking to them, and making Gip show off his tricks. Sometimes our meetings were at the window, sometimes on the road; once or twice, when there came some unusually fine mild days, mamma let me sit out on the sh.o.r.e, and I taught the trots to dig a hole for Gip and bury him in the sand, all but his bright eyes and funny black nose--that _was_ a beautiful game! I never found out exactly where my friends lived; it was in one of the side streets leading on to the Esplanade, that was all I knew. I never knew, as I said, if they were boys or girls, or perhaps one of each.

Mamma wanted one day to ask Bessie, but I wouldn't let her. They were just my two little trots, that was all I wanted to know.

'”It would spoil them to fancy them growing up into great boys or girls,” I said. ”I want them to be always trots--nothing else.”

'And as Bessie called them simply Doll and Dot, without any ”master” or ”miss,” I was able to keep my fancy.

'When the weather grew colder, the trots came out in a new costume--sealskin coats, sealskin caps, and sealskin gloves--they were just little b.a.l.l.s of sealskin, and looked ”trottier” than ever. About this time they left off carrying their woolly lambs. I suspect the real reason was that their extreme affection for the lambs had resulted in these favoured animals growing more black than white, and that Bessie judged them unfit for appearing in public, but if this _was_ the case, evidently Bessie had been obliged to resort to artifice to obtain their owners' consent to the lambs being left at home. For, when I asked the trots where the precious creatures were, they looked melancholy and distressed and shook their heads.

'”Too told!” said Doll, and Dot repeated, like a mournful echo, ”too told!”

'”Of course,” said I, ”how stupid of me not to think of it! of course it's far too cold for such very little lambs to be out.”

'Bessie looked gratefully at me. ”We're going to buy some cakes for tea,” she said, with a smile, and sure enough in about half-an-hour the trio reappeared again, and came to a standstill as usual, opposite our window. And, instead of a lamb, each trot hugged a little parcel, neatly done up in white paper. I opened the window to hear what they were saying, they looked so excited.

'”Takes for tea,” they both called out at once, ”takes for tea. Lady have one. Dip have one.”

'And poor Bessie was obliged to open the parcels, and extract one ”take”

from each and hand them up to me, before my little dears would be satisfied.

'Can you fancy that I really got to love the trots? I did not want to know who they were, or what sort of a father and mother they had--they were well taken care of, that was evident, for somehow, knowing anything more about them would have spoilt them for being my funny little trots.

'But, for several weeks of the three months we spent at St. Austin's, the sight of these happy little creatures was one of my greatest pleasures, and a day without a glimpse of them would have seemed blank and dull.

'There came a time, however, when for many days I did not see my little friends. The weather was bad just then, and mamma said she was sure they had got colds, that would be all that was wrong with them, but somehow I felt uneasy. I asked our doctor, when he called, if there was much illness about, and he, fancying I was nervous on my own account, replied, ”Oh no, with the exception of two or three cases of croup, he had no serious ailments among his patients: it was a very healthy season.”

'I got frightened at the idea of croup, and cross-questioned him to discover if my trots were among the sufferers, but he shook his head.