Виктория Холт: Kirkland Revels

” Poor little fellow,” he said. ” He’s in a bad way.”

His voice was gentle, and I was immediately exhilarated because I knew that I should not ask for help in vain.

” I want to buy him,” I explained, ” and I’ve come out without money.

It’s most annoying and distressing. Will you please lend me a shilling? “

” Look here,” whined the woman. ” I ain’t selling him. Not for no shilling, I ain’t. He’s my little dog, he is. Why should I sell him?”

” You were ready to for a shilling,” I retorted.

She shook her head and pulled the dog towards her; and I again felt that twinge of compassion as I saw the little animal’s reluctance. I looked pleadingly at the young man, who smiled as he dismounted, put his hand in his pocket and said:

” Here’s two shillings for the dog. You can take it or leave it.”

The woman could not hide her delight at so large a sum. She held out a dirty hand for the money which, with a fastidious gesture, he dropped into her palm. Then he took the rope from her, and she moved away quickly as though she were afraid he would change his mind.

” Thank you,” I cried. ” Oh, thank you.”

The dog made a little whimpering sound which I felt to be pleasure. “

The first thing to be done is feed him,” I said, dismounting. “

Fortunately I have a meat patty in my pocket.”

He nodded and, taking the reins from my hands, led our horses off the road while I picked up the dog, who made a feeble attempt to wag his tail. I sat down on the grass and took the patty from my pocket; I fed the dog, who ate ravenously while the young man stood by holding the horses.

” Poor little dog,” he said. ” He’s had a bad time.”

“I don’t know how to begin to thank you,” I told him.

“What would have happened if you hadn’t come along is unthinkable. She would never have given him to me.”

” Don’t let’s brood on that,” he said. ” We have him now.”

I was drawn towards him because I knew that he cared as much about the dog’s fate as I did; and the dog, from that moment, became a bond between us.

” I shall take him home and look after him,” I said. ” Do you think he’ll recover?”

” I am sure he will. He’s a tough little mongrel, I imagine, but hardly the dog to spend his days on a lady’s velvet cushion.”

” He’s my sort of dog,” I replied.

” You should feed him regularly and often.”

” It is what I intend to do. When I get him home I shall give him some warm milk a little at a time.

The dog knew we were talking about him, but the effort of eating, together with the excitement, had been exhausting, and he lay very still. I wanted to get home as quickly as possible and begin looking after him; but at the same time I was loath to say good-bye to the man. His melancholy expression, which I believed might well be habitual with him, had lifted when he had bargained for the dog and had presented him to me, and I was anxious to know what could have happened to a young man, who was clearly blessed with a goodly share of the comforts of life, to have produced that melancholy. I was curious about him, and it was stimulating to discover this curiosity in myself at the very time that I had acquired my interest in the dog. I was torn between two desires: I wanted to stay and learn more about the man, and at the same time I wanted to take the dog home and feed him.

I knew, of course, that there must be no question what I did, for the dog was dangerously near death by starvation.

” I must be going,” I said.

He nodded.

“I’ll carry him, shall I?” he replied; and without waiting for my reply, he helped me to mount. He gave me the dog to hold while he mounted; then he took the little creature from me and, tucking him under his arm, said:

“Which way?”

I showed him and we set out. In twenty minutes we had reached Glengreen, scarcely speaking on the way there. At the gates of Glen House we paused.

” He’s really yours,” I said. ” You paid for him.”

” Then I make a gift of him to you.” His eyes smiled into mine. ” But I shall retain rights in him. I shall want to know whether he lives or not. May I call and ask?”

” Of course.”

“Tomorrow?”

” If you wish.”

” And for whom shall I ask?”

“For Miss Corder … Catherine Corder.”

“Thank you. Miss Corder. Gabriel Rockwell will call on you tomorrow.”

Fanny was horrified by the presence of the dog. ” Happen there’ll be dog’s hairs all over t’place. Happen we’ll be finding whiskers in t’soup and fleas in our beds.”

I said nothing. I fed the dog myself . on bread and milk in small quantities, at intervals, all through the rest of the day and once in the night. I found a basket and I took him to my bedroom. It was the happiest night since my return, and I wondered why I never thought of asking for a dog when I was a child. Perhaps it was because I knew that Fanny would never have allowed me to have one. What did it matter I had him now.

He knew I was his friend right from the start. He lay in the basket too weak to move, but his eyes told me that he understood what I was doing was for his good. Those eyes, already loving, patiently followed me as I moved. I knew that he would be my friend as long as he lived.

I wondered what to call him; he must have a name. I could not go on thinking of him as the gipsy’s dog. Then I remembered that I had found him on a Friday and I thought: Hell be my Dog Friday. And from then he had his name.

By the morning he was on the way to recovery. I waited for the coming of Gabriel for, now that my anxieties about the dog were over, I began to think more of the man who had shared the adventure. I was a little disappointed because he did not come in the morning, and I felt sad because I was afraid he might have forgotten us by now. I did want to say thank you to him, because I was sure Friday owed his life to his timely arrival.

He came in the afternoon. It was three o’clock, and I was in my room with the dog when I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs below. Friday’s ears twitched and his tail moved as though he knew that the other one to whom he would be for ever grateful was near.

I looked out of my window, standing well back so that he could not see me if he should chance to look up. He was certainly handsome but in a somewhat delicate way, not as we expected our men to be in Yorkshire.

He had an aristocratic air. I had noticed this on the previous day but I had wondered whether I had imagined it because of the contrast he made with Friday’s previous mistress.

I went downstairs hastily because I did not want him to be ungraciously received.

I was wearing a dark blue velvet afternoon dress my best because I was expecting him, and I had wound my plaits to form a coronet on the top of my head.

I went out into the drive just as he came up. He swept off his hat in a manner which I knew would be called ” daft” by Fanny, but I thought it elegant and the height of courtesy.

” So you came!” I said. ” Dog Friday will recover. I’ve christened him after the day on which he was found.”

He had dismounted and at that moment Mary appeared. I made her call one of the stable-boys to lead his horse round to the stable, and water and feed him. ” Come in,” I said, and when Gabriel came into the hall, the house seemed brighter for his presence.

” Let me take you up to the drawing-room,” I said, ” and I will ring for tea.”

He followed me up the stairs while I told him how I was treating Friday. ” I shall bring him down to show you. You will see a great improvement.”

In the drawing-room I pulled back the curtains and drew up the Venetian blinds. Now it seemed more cheerful or perhaps that was due to Gabriel. When he sat in one of the arm-chairs, and smiled at me, I was conscious that in my blue velvet with my neatly plaited hair I looked very different from the girl in the riding-habit.