Part 3 (2/2)

”If only I might travel and have adventures!” sighed the little vegetable boy.

He was now old enough to drive the dog-cart to market alone. He went each day, with Baby Rose perched on top of the vegetables, laughing and gurgling with joy.

All the way to town Philippe sang with his little sister. When they reached the Grande Place, he set the baby upon the counter. Then the little girl, with her golden curls and her sunny smile, and the tall, handsome boy, with his wavy hair and his dreamy eyes, sang and attracted many people to the booth. It did not take them long to sell their vegetables.

Now as Philippe unloaded his produce, he did not know that today something unusual was going to happen. Rose fluttered about and filled the dogs' drinking bowl. All dog-carts in Belgium carry drinking bowls, and a bit of carpet for the animals to lie down upon. Rose filled the bowl, and the huge beasts licked her hands with grat.i.tude.

There was a new member of the dog family who had come to town with them today. It was Trompke (=tromp'-ky=). Trompke was a puppy. He did not work. He was Philippe's own puppy.

”Trompke” means ”tambourine” in Brussels French. The puppy was thus named because he had such a fat little round tummy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TROMPKE]

Trompke loved Philippe. Today was the first time he had been allowed to follow the cart to town. He was wild with excitement.

”Stop barking, Trompke!” commanded Philippe, as he arranged the vegetables on the stand.

”Lie down, Tum-Tum,” cried Baby Rose.

And Trompke lay at the baby's feet.

Just then Philippe noticed some one in the booth next to their own. A tall man was moving about arranging vegetables. This booth had not been used for a very long time.

”Now,” thought Philippe, ”we shall have a neighbor.”

Philippe smiled at the man, who was staring at the two children. Then the man looked down at the puppy, which was whining unhappily at Philippe's feet.

”Keep him quiet,” said the man angrily.

Philippe answered, ”He means no harm. He is only excited. It's his first trip to town.”

The man did not answer but turned toward his vegetables. Philippe was puzzled. He had never before met anyone like his neighbor.

The man wore ragged clothes, and his face was sunburned. His eyes were coal black and seemed to flash fire. He had a wild look about him. He was tall and moved like a cat.

Suddenly he leaned over toward Philippe.

”Keep that dog quiet, will you?” he snarled.

Trompke was still whining softly, though he could hardly be heard.

”He does no harm,” answered Philippe.

The man's flas.h.i.+ng eyes gleamed as he replied, ”He keeps the people away. n.o.body has come to buy at the booths yet. It is the fault of that dog.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”LIE DOWN, TUM-TUM!”]

<script>