CHAPTER III

AN OLD FRIEND AND A NEW ONE

It was the twentieth of April! Tan’s birthday! At least, Denise considered it his birthday, for upon that date, when she was a wee lassie of four, Tan had been given to her, although he certainly had not come into the world upon the same day, for Tan was “no kid” when she got him. That he was more than seven and one-half years she knew, and a friend of her father’s who was well up in animal lore, said that Tan was not far from fourteen years of age, to judge from the rings upon his horns, which were almost as distinct as those seen upon the Rocky Mountain sheep which Tan resembled both in size and color. So Tan was growing old for a goat, and during the past winter had suffered somewhat from rheumatism. The Veterinary who came to see him did all that he could to afford him relief, but said that Tan would probably not live through another winter. Denise had been greatly troubled at this, but, like all “mothers,” only loved old Tan more dearly in his affliction, and cared for him more tenderly. But as spring drew near Tan improved steadily, and when the warm days came and he could go out in his field to crop the fresh, sweet grass, it seemed just the tonic he required, and he grew quite gay and frisky. He still followed Denise whenever he could do so, but in some of their long rambles, or after a particularly hard climb, often grew tired and stopped stock-still in the road to pant.

Ned, Sailor, and Beauty Buttons were not able to understand, although Sailor, himself, was not very young.

Directly lessons were ended and luncheon eaten, Denise flew out to the “Bird’s Nest,” for the pretty little playhouse and stable for her pets combined was still as dear to her as upon the day she had received the key to it from papa’s hand, and most of her time was spent in it. Running into the part which held the carriages for Ned and Tan, she took down Tan’s harness, which had not been put on him for many a long day, wheeled out the little carriage, and then went to the door to whistle for Tan. Ned Toodles stood in his day-stall, which permitted him to see through the bars all that was taking place, and looked upon the unusual preparations with a sort of “Well, I wonder what you are up to now?” look. He stood perfectly still except for an occasional whisk of his tail, very much as a person might, without really being aware of it, hastily brush away a stray lock of hair which tickled him.

Out upon the grass in front of the “Bird’s Nest,” Denise rolled the little old-fashioned carriage, and then turned to greet Tan, who, at the first sight of these familiar objects, felt his poor old bones filled with new life, and his loving old heart beat for joy, for these meant that he was again to draw the little carriage and, as he supposed, his beloved little mistress. With a prolonged baa-aa-a-a--a, he came trotting toward her as fast as the stiff legs permitted, and rubbed his head against her sleeve by way of telling her how pleased he was.

“Now, Tanny-boy,” said Denise, “this is your birthday. At least, _I_ call it your birthday, because you came to live with me on the twentieth of April just seven years ago. Haven’t we had good times all these years? You haven’t been harnessed for ever so long, and I don’t know whether you ought to be now, to tell the truth, for you don’t seem very strong, but I am not going to take you out of the grounds, and this is to make you feel that you _aren’t_ so very old after all,” and Denise stroked the faithful old pet, who responded in every way he knew how; licking her hands, rubbing against her, and making a soft little snuffling sound.

It was only a moment’s work to her practiced hands to adjust the harness, and Tan was a proud goat as he waited for her to get into the carriage. But she had no intention of doing so. Such a load as her plump little self was not to be thought of, so, bidding him stand perfectly still, she ran back into the playhouse and a moment later reappeared with a little pink flannelette blanket, bound all around the edges with black braid, and a piece of broad pink ribbon.

“Here, Beauty Buttons,” she called to the tiny black-and-tan terrier which was enjoying a sun-bath in the playhouse dining-room, “come and ride in Tan’s wagon, for I’m too heavy,” and down trotted the small dog, to be dressed in the blanket she had made for this festive occasion and adorned with the bow to match. He knew well enough what was expected, and hopped into the carriage. Denise put the reins over his neck and there he sat, a brave little groom, while Denise went up to Tan’s head and took hold of the bridle. Poor old Tan! All aches and pains were forgotten, and he stepped off in his bravest style.

“Now we will go over there under the apple-trees, and I’ll dress you all up,” said Denise, and off they went, and presently were standing beneath the blossom-laden trees, so filled with their beautiful bloom that they looked exactly like huge bouquets. The boughs hung low, and before long Tan had nearly disappeared under his decorations, for sprigs of apple-blossoms were stuck in every part of the harness that they could be stuck in, the carriage and Beauty also coming in for their share. When all was finished Denise led Tan to the rear porch and gave a “bob-white” call. It was almost instantly answered by a bob-white from within, and her mother’s face appeared at an upper window.

“What is this, Sweetheart? A flower fête?” asked Mrs. Lombard, smiling at the posy bank under her window.

“Isn’t it pretty,” cried Denise, “and did you ever see such lovely blossoms. Tan seems so much better, and I guess he will be all right now that warm weather has come again, don’t you?”

“I would not wonder a bit,” was the comforting reply, for somehow this mother rarely made any other sort, and had a knack of putting the simplest things in a new and happy light.

“Have you got a letter?” asked Denise, noticing that her mother held an envelope in her hand.

“Yes, dear; it is a letter from Mrs. Murray, saying that they will be back in their old home this week, and that we may expect to see the house open any day. I am so pleased to hear such good news, for it has seemed very lonely to have our nearest neighbor’s house shut up all these years. I wonder if you can remember the children at all? The eldest was only six months your senior, and a dear little lad.”

“I am afraid I can’t,” said Denise, wagging her head solemnly, as though she were found wanting in something.

“Well, keep your weather eye open,” said Mrs. Lombard, laughing, “and when you see some one whom you don’t know, just say to yourself, ‘that is an old friend.’”

“I will,” answered Denise, joining in the laugh, and turning to lead Tan and her passenger back under the trees. The apple-trees grew near to the fence which divided Mr. Lombard’s property from his neighbor’s, and that particular corner of the grounds was always a favorite one of Denise’s. Up in one tree was her “cubby,” beneath two others swung her hammock, and upon the velvety grass beneath them she spent many a happy hour reading, while Ned Toodles, Tan, Sailor, Beauty Buttons, and the kittens stood, sat, or stretched themselves about her. A hedge of currant-bushes grew along the fence, concealing all that took place within or beyond.

Denise had led Tan to a particularly inviting spot and took him from the shafts, although she did not remove the harness and its decorations. Beauty had hopped out of the carriage, and was now sprawled out like a big frog. Seating herself in one of the rustic benches beneath the trees, she drew Tan toward her and began to scratch the little spot between his horns; a spot which seemed to be in a perpetual state of itching, as his head would fall lower and lower the longer she scratched there. As she rubbed she talked to Tan, rambling on in the odd way she had of sharing all her thoughts with her pets, safe confidants, who never betrayed her secrets, and who loved the voice for the voice’s sake. Presently a loud, impatient whinney caused her to look over toward the playhouse.

“Do you hear that?” she demanded. “I do believe that Ned is jealous for the first time in his life,” and she answered the whinney by giving a peculiar piping whistle.

A stamping and a clatter was the result, and presently John’s voice was heard shouting: “Hi! you young scamp! Don’t you dare thry that thrick on me agin. It’s takin’ out yer own bar fastenings ye’ll be, is it? Don’t ye dare! There,” as the sound of dropping bars told that Ned was free, “gt-t-t out beyant to Miss Denise, and cut no more capers,” and with a rattle and clatter out rushed Ned to come tearing over the grass toward Denise. His abrupt exit so startled the kittens, who were basking in the sunshine just outside the door, that they bounced up like two rubber balls and tore along ahead of him with both tails stuck straight up in the air like bottle-brushes, and did not stop their flight until they were safe in the branches above Denise’s head.

As though to rebuke such unseemly haste, Sailor rose majestically from his favorite corner of the piazza, and, descending the steps, came slowly across the lawn, waving his plumy tail like a flag of truce and looking with dignified contempt upon such mad antics as Ned was just then giving way to, for having been confined in his stall all the morning while Denise was occupied with her lessons, and then having had insult added to injury by receiving from her only a few words when she ran out to get Tan, his outraged spirit had to find some sort of vent, and this up-end, down-end, tip-end, top-end sort of performance with which he was now favoring his audience was evidently the proper sort of demonstration under the circumstances, and for a little time it would have been hard to tell which end of him rested upon _terra firma_. As a fitting ending to his performance, he rushed around and around two or three times, evidently regarding Denise’s laughter which pealed out as wild applause, and then, coming toward her with a rush, bumped against old Tan and nearly upset him, as he pushed him aside to put _his_ saucy nose where Tan’s had been.

It was all done so quickly that Denise hardly realized what had happened till she was startled by a hearty, boyish laugh from the other side of the hedge, and, turning quickly, saw a lad of about twelve looking over it and laughing as hard as he could. Giving Ned a shake by his little silky ears, Denise pushed him from her and hopped up from the bench, saying: “Isn’t he the craziest thing you ever saw? I guess you are the person I am to see and not know a bit, but to call an old friend,” and with this bewildering announcement she went over to the fence to speak to the still amused boy.

Hastily reaching in the pocket of his immaculate little overcoat, the boy drew from it a small card-case, and, taking from it a card, handed it to Denise with a truly Chesterfieldian air as he raised his cap and waited for her to read the name.

Although a carefully-bred child, Denise had not had much experience in conventionalities, and did not go about with a card-case in her pocket. So it never occurred to her to throw any formality into her reply, and her next words banished forever any misgivings the boy was entertaining of the outcome of this act. “Will she be stiff and prim?” had been his inward doubt while coming back to the home so long untenanted by his parents, and learning that their next-door neighbor had an only daughter blessed with more good things than usually falls to the lot of one child. He had been at school abroad, and “manners polite” had been as breakfast, dinner, and supper to him for three long years, till very little of the genuine boy appeared upon the surface, however much it seethed and bubbled beneath. True to his training, the card had been produced when occasion called for it, but the sigh of relief which came at Denise’s next words told that a mighty burden had been lifted from his boyish soul:

“Oh, how perfectly splendid! You are Hart Murray, mamma’s old friend’s son. Come straight over the fence and let me show you all my pets, and we’ll talk, talk, talk, till we can’t think of another word to say!”