Bessie in the City

by Joanna H. Mathews

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  X.

  _HOME AGAIN! HOME AGAIN!_

  MEANWHILE the stray birdling had been missed from the home-nest, andgreat was the trouble and alarm there. Nurse, coming in, found Maggieat the head of the stairs with a discontented face.

  "What's happened ye?" she asked; "and what are ye standing here in thedraught for? Go back to the nursery, my honey."

  "I can't find Bessie," said Maggie. "I went to sleep, and when I wokeup, she was gone, and Flossy was gone too, and I looked all over, andthey are not here."

  "She hasn't taken wings, and flown away," said nurse. "You mind baby amoment, and I'll hunt her up for you."

  Nurse hunted in vain, and at last told Maggie she thought Bessie musthave found her way into the parlor, where the ladies were talking."She'll soon tire of it, and come back to you," she said; "but it wasnot like her to go off and leave you."

  But the time passed on; Jane came in with Franky; the children'sdinner-bell rang, and still Bessie did not come. At last the ladiesof the committee went away, and mamma came out of the parlor, but nolittle girl was with her. Then the whole house was searched, up-stairsand down, from cellar to attic; but the pet was not found.

  "Could her grandmamma or aunt or Mrs. Rush have come and taken herout?" said Jane.

  "They would not be so thoughtless; they would know I should be anxiousif they left no word," said Mrs. Bradford, who was growing very muchalarmed.

  "No one came in; for I did not have my eyes off the front-door while Iwas out on the sidewalk," said nurse. "Yes, I did, too, just a coupleof minutes while I spoke to Miss Hall; but no one could have come inand gone out, too, without my seeing them."

  Ah, nurse, nurse, it was just those two minutes when you forgot yourduty, which did all the mischief.

  "And there's her hat," said Jane, looking in the box. "Ah, there'sher garden hat and sack gone. Now maybe she's just run out after you,nurse, and somebody's caught her and run away with her when you wasn'tlooking. I've heard of such things, and how they make 'em beg, and beat'em and frighten 'em so they don't dare tell where they belong."

  This was very pleasant for the poor anxious mother, who, however,told Jane that was nonsense; while nurse, who knew she was to blame inletting her attention be called off, grew very angry and scolded Jane,saying she must have seen Bessie if she left the house.

  Nevertheless, Bessie was certainly not in the house; and one servantwas sent to grandmamma's, another to the hotel, to see if any tracecould be found of the missing treasure; while Mrs. Bradford herselfran to all the neighbors, and poor Maggie stood by the window cryingbitterly for her lost sister. In a little time grandmamma and AuntAnnie were on the spot, as anxious as the rest, to see if they couldhelp in the search. As people were running in all directions, it seemedto grandmamma that the best thing she could do was to comfort poor,distressed Maggie. But Maggie was not to be comforted, and declaredthat she knew she should never, never, never see Bessie again. "Oh, Iam so very sorry I went to sleep," she sobbed. "I just expect she wentto heaven in a chariot of fire when no one was looking." Grandmammacould not smile at Maggie's strange idea, she was so anxious herself,but she told her this could not be so; and that Bessie had probably runout in the street and so lost her way.

  "But Bessie would not do such a thing, grandmamma; she would know mammawould not like it, and she never disobeys her."

  "Perhaps your mother never told her she was not to go out alone, dear,and so she was tempted to run a few steps, and then could not find herway back."

  "Oh, no, indeed, grandmamma. Bessie knew quite well mamma would notwish us to go alone even if she did not say so; and she would thinkit was just the same; and Bessie never falls into temptation exceptabout passions. If it was me, maybe I might; and I know she'll nevercome back; and oh, I cannot do without her, we are so very intimate,grandmamma."

  Grandmamma said she was almost sure Bessie would soon be found, andtold Maggie how well everything was arranged at the police-stations,so that if a little child was lost, it could soon be restored to itsfriends. Still Maggie only shook her head sorrowfully, feeling it quiteimpossible to believe that Bessie had gone away of her own free will.

  Then Mrs. Bradford came in, looking very pale and troubled, for shecould hear nothing of her lost baby; but a moment after, Patrick camewith news. The policeman at the corner told how he had helped a littlegirl over the crossing, and seen her safe in the hotel and that she hadsaid she was going to see the colonel; but that he could tell nothingfarther. Patrick had gone to the colonel's rooms, but they were closedand locked; and he heard that the colonel and Mrs. Rush had been outfor a long while.

  Hearing this, Mrs. Bradford and her sister went round to the hotel, andgiving the alarm, the great building was searched from top to bottom.Every room and closet, every hall and corridor, even the roof, and thecellar far underground where the gas was made, were looked through; butstill no Bessie. But when the servants were questioned, the woman whohad spoken to Bessie told how she had come to the colonel's room, andthen walked off.

  "She has probably wandered out again, madam," was said to the palemother by one of the gentlemen who had been helping in the search; "andnow you had better at once send to the police-station, and give noticeof her loss."

  As Mrs. Bradford was leaving the hotel to do this, the colonel and Mrs.Rush drove up. In two minutes they had heard all that was known, andthe colonel said he would himself go to the station.

  The station to which Bessie had been taken was not the one nearest toMr. Bradford's house; and it was to the latter that the colonel drovefirst. He did not find his lost pet there, of course; but he heard thata telegram had come sometime since, saying that a stray child was atthe station in ---- Street, and there he went as fast as his horse'sfeet could carry him.

  We left the little girl who had caused all this commotion sitting uponthe knee of the kind sergeant of police, while he coaxed her to tellhim the story of her troubles, in the hope that he might find out whereshe belonged.

  "You don't look big enough for such a many troubles," he said; "nowlet's hear about them, and see what we can do. What was the first one?"

  "First Maggie had a earache and cried; and then mamma had a committee,and had to leave us; and then I could not find nurse, and Flossy yanaway," said Bessie; and the poor child began to cry again at thethought of Flossy.

  "And who is Flossy?" asked the sergeant.

  "He is our puppy that Donald gave us,--Maggie's and mine."

  "And who is Maggie?"

  "My own sister; don't you know that?"

  "Indeed, I did not," said the policeman. "What is her name?"

  "Maggie Stanton Byadford," said the child.

  "And what is yours?"

  "Bessie Yush Byadford."

  The policeman shook his head; still he could make nothing of the name.

  "And when Flossy ran away, you ran after him, did you?" he asked.

  "Yes, but I didn't mean to, sir; I forgot mamma wouldn't want me to,and Flossy yan so fast. He went 'way over the long crossing, and ourpoliceman was not there."

  "Who's your policeman?"

  "I don't know his name, only he helps us over the long crossing, whenwe want to go to the hotel."

  "Ho, ho, I think we are coming at it," said the sergeant. "What hotelis that?"

  "Why, the hotel where the colonel lives," said Bessie, as if therecould be but one hotel and one colonel. "I thought mamma would not likeme to go home by myself, and I asked that other policeman whom I didnot know to take me over, so I could go ask the colonel to send mehome. But he was out, and a woman scolded me, and so I went away, andthe crossing wouldn't come, and the boys were naughty and yude, andFlossy's gone--oh, dear! oh, dear! I do want my own house and my ownmamma; and everybody said naughty things about mamma."

  "There, then, don't cry any more," said the policeman. "I think thatmust be the hotel, and you can't tell me what street you live in?"

  "Why, yes, I can," said Bessie, who quit
e forgot that she had not beenable to tell where she lived while she had been so frightened. "I livein papa's house in ---- Street, Number ----, and I want to go home somuch."

  "So you shall, right off, now that you have told me where you belong,"said the policeman. "I'll send, and see if you are right."

  But just as he turned to speak to one of the men, an open carriagedrove quickly to the door. Bessie looked around, then gave a scream ofjoy.

  "Oh, it's my soldier, my own dear soldier! He came and found me--oh, hedid, he did!"

  In less time than it would have been thought possible, the colonel hadbeen helped out, and was within the room. Bessie almost sprang out ofthe policeman's arms, and clung about the colonel's neck, while he,dropping one crutch, steadied himself on the other, and held her fastwith the arm that was free. It was touching to see, as, half laughing,half crying, she poured out broken words of love and joy, now coveringhis face with kisses, now burying her own on his shoulder, then liftingit again to lay her soft cheek to his and pat it with her tiny hand.Colonel Rush was almost as much overjoyed as she, but he was in hasteto carry the recovered treasure to her anxious mother. Nor was Bessiein less haste to be at home; but for all that, she did not forget tospeak her thanks to those who had been kind to her, going from one toanother, and shaking hands with them in her own polite little way. Thesergeant carried her out and put her in the carriage.

  "Good-by," she said, giving him her hand, "I am very much obliged toyou for letting me come in your nice station-house, and for speaking sokind to me."

  "Bless your heart," said the man, "if it wasn't for your own sake, I'dbe sorry enough to part with you. Now don't you go and lose yourselfagain."

  "I did not lose myself," said Bessie; "I just came lost, I did not meanto do it."

  "I don't believe you did," said the man; "good-by to you."

  Then the colonel put something into his hand, and they drove homeas fast as possible. Oh, what joy there was over the little darlingwho had been so long away! Mamma held her fast and cried over her; itseemed as if she could never let her go out of her arms again; Maggiejumped about and clapped her hands, and kissed Bessie's face, hands,dress, and even her feet; Franky did as he saw Maggie do, saying,"Bessie tome, all nice now." Grandmamma, Aunt Annie, and Mrs. Rush werequite as much rejoiced, and the very servants had to take part in thewelcome. Even the new cook, whom the children scarcely knew, had tocome in for a peep at the dear little cause of all this excitement.Then papa, who had been sent for, that he might help in the searchfor his lost daughter, came home to find the sorrowing changed intorejoicing, and Bessie running to the front-door to meet him, saying,--

  "I am quite found papa. I asked our Father to let you find me, and hesent the colonel instead, but that was just as good when he brought mehome; wasn't it?"

  "Quite as good, perhaps even better, darling, since dear mamma wasspared another hour of anxiety, and you one of waiting. Our heavenlyFather often does better for us than we ask, although we may not alwaysknow it."

  "And you don't think I was naughty; do you, papa? Mamma does not."

  "I must hear the story first; but now let me thank our good, kindcolonel, who has put himself to some trouble I am sure, to find you."

  When Mr. Bradford had heard Bessie's story, which she told in herown straightforward way, he satisfied her by saying that he did notthink her in the least naughty, since he was sure she had not meantto disobey. He would not consent that grandmamma and Aunt Annie, andColonel and Mrs. Rush should go home to dinner; they must all stay andhave a great jubilee over the happy ending to Bessie's adventures. Andoh, such a pleasure! The children were allowed to take dinner with thegrown people, a treat which was only granted on great occasions.

  "It's just like the man in the Bible, who lost his sheep and found it,and called all his friends to come and be glad, and have a nice timewith him," said Maggie, "only we're a great deal more glad than thatman, because our Bessie is a great deal better than the sheep, and wedon't have ninety and nine, either."

  "No," said papa, "we have only one Bessie and one Maggie, and a verygood Maggie and Bessie they are of their kind. I would not change themfor any others that could be offered to me. How is the ear, Maggie?"

  "Oh, it's 'most well, papa. When I felt so bad about Bessie, I forgotabout it, and when I was so glad, the pain just went away before I knewit."

  "So the greater trouble cured the lesser, eh?"

  "But, papa," said Bessie, "we have a great, great trouble with all ourhappiness. You know Flossy is quite lost, and we'll never have him toplay with again."

  "I am not sure about that," said Mr. Bradford; "I shall go to-morrowand see what I can do to find him. Still I have not much hope, and youmust not think too much about it."

  "You mean you will do all you can, papa," said Bessie, sorrowfully,"but probaly we will never see our dear Flossy again."

  "Never mind, Bessie," said Maggie, tenderly; "it is not very muchmatter if we don't. We have you back again, so we've no reason tocomplain."

  Dear, generous-hearted little Maggie! She would not say how badly shefelt about Flossy, lest Bessie should think she blamed her for hisloss, but it was a great trial to her, as her father knew. She wasmore fond of him than Bessie was, and Flossy cared more for her thanhe did for any one else. Never were two merrier playfellows, and theirdroll antics and frolics were a source of great amusement to the wholefamily. And now he was gone, perhaps never to come back; and Maggie'slittle heart was very sore, though she said nothing of her grief.Thoughtless she often was, but never where Bessie was concerned; shenever forgot her little sister's happiness or comfort, and would bearanything herself if so she might keep harm or trouble from Bessie. Herfather knew this, and why she spoke as if she did not care much aboutFlossy, and he loved her the better for it, for he saw that it was hardwork for her to keep back the tears. He put his arm about her, andkissed her tenderly, as he began to talk of other things.

  Quite late that night, when Mrs. Bradford went up-stairs, she hearda low sobbing from the room opening out of her own, where Maggie andBessie slept, each in her own pretty little bed.

  "What is it, my darling?" she asked, going in. "Is your ear feelingbadly again?"

  "Not so very, mamma," said Maggie, "but--please put your head downclose, mamma, so Bessie wont wake up--I do feel so very, very badlyabout Flossy. If I knew somebody had him who would be kind to him,I think I could try to bear it, but I know they will hurt him andtease him, and he'll have such a hard time. I know he'll be homesick,too--oh, dear--and I can't go to sleep, 'cause I think so much abouthim, and I don't want Bessie to know it."

  Mamma sat down on the bed and comforted Maggie, and then, holdingher hand, began to tell her a story which she took care not to maketoo interesting, until presently the little hand which held her ownloosened its grasp, and Maggie's regular breathing showed that she hadforgotten her trouble.

  All this made Mr. Bradford resolve that he would spare no pains torecover Flossy, and the next morning he went to the police-station,and asking the name and beat of the man who had brought in his littledaughter, went in search of him. He was soon found, and told where hehad met Bessie; but he had been able to learn nothing of the lost dog.Mr. Bradford inquired all about the neighborhood in vain; the boys whomhe met either could not or would not answer his questions. He offered areward to whoever could tell anything that would lead to the recoveryof the dog, and when he went down town, put an advertisement in thepapers saying the same thing.

  But three days passed, and still no word came of Flossy. On thefourth morning, the family were all at breakfast, when Patrick, whowas passing through the hall, heard a scratching and whining at thefront-door. He hurried to open it, and Flossy rushed in, ran throughthe hall into the breakfast-room, and before any one had recovered fromtheir first surprise, scrambled into Maggie's lap, buried his faceunder her arm, and lay trembling and whimpering with joy. Poor littlefellow! he was in a sad state. His glossy silken coat was all mattedand dirty; he looked th
in and half-starved; his pretty red collar,with its brass lettering, was gone, and around his neck the hair wasrubbed off, as if it had been worn by a rope, and his mouth was cutand bleeding. Papa said he thought he had been tied up, and in hisstruggles to free himself, had worn the hair from his neck, and cut hismouth with gnawing at the rope.

  The children cried and laughed over him by turns, hugged and kissedhim, and although it was against mamma's rules to feed him in thedining-room, begged that they might do it for this once. Permission wasgiven, and then they wanted to stuff him with everything that was onthe table; but mamma said they must be careful, or he would be sick,so a saucer of warm bread and milk was brought and put on the hearth,and glad enough the poor puppy was to have it. But he would not eatunless Maggie's hand was on him, and every now and then he would stopto look up in her face with a low whine, as if he wanted to tell herhis pitiful story. Afterwards he was well washed, and then, wrapped inhis blanket, went to sleep in Maggie's lap. He woke up quite refreshed,but for a day or two, did not care to play much, content to lie mostof the time in Maggie's or Bessie's arms, or curled up in a ball insome comfortable corner. But after this long rest, and several goodmeals, to say nothing of a great amount of petting, he began to barkand act like himself, and was once more the bright, merry, affectionateplaything he had been before.

  Where he had been, or how he had escaped from those who had treated himso cruelly, was never known, but every one thought it quite wonderfulthat so young a dog, and one who had been such a short time in thehouse, could have found his way home alone.

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