Pixy's Holiday Journey Part 22

"Yes, I did say it. It was your fault in calling 'Pixy! Pixy!'"

The moment the dog heard his name he sprang up, put his paws on her lap, and looked into her face with such an affectionate expression in his brown eyes, that she could not help patting his head and saying, "With it all, one cannot help loving you."

The carriage stopped at number 37, and Pixy sprang to the pavement, followed closely by the boys, who helped Mrs. Steiner out carefully, and with one on each side she went slowly up the long steps.

"Certainly such help is not to be despised," she said. "You are my gallant cavaliers."

She took out her key as she spoke and unlocked the door, and was surprised to see several letters which had been pushed under it during her absence.

"They are only business circulars, I suppose," she said as the boys gathered them up and put them on the table.

She put on her gla.s.ses, took one up, broke the seal and read:

"In reference to your notice in the 'Intelligencer' that you offer a reward for the recovery of your dog, I write to say that it can be found at 395 New street. If you send ten marks between twelve and one o'clock, and a rope, you can have your dog.

"Respectfully,

"M.R."

"Now just hear that, boys! Whoever heard the like of this? If he asks two marks for catching the dog, then he asks eight marks for one day's feed. He must have fed it on pound cake and champagne."

"It would take my gold-piece to pay it, if the dog were really Pixy,"

remarked Fritz.

"Yes, but it is not Pixy. Let me see what this one says."

"We have your dog, and you can have it, if you will put a notice in the paper that you will put twenty-five marks in our hand for it. If you agree to this, then you can come to the Hessen statue with the money, and take your dog.

"P.P."

"Wonderful that P.P. promises to bring a dog that we already have and who is lying comfortably on his piece of carpet by the window. Now here is a stylish looking letter. Let us see who is the writer.

"Highborn gentleman (or lady).

"I see that you speak of having lost your dog. Do not imagine that it was lost; it was stolen. It is evident that you like dogs, so I write to say that I have a fine Spitz which I will sell you. His brother sold for twelve marks and I think you will be willing to give that sum. If so, bring the money to Roderberg square at four o'clock. With due respect,

"Euphrosine Sauerbier."

"Fritz! Fritz! Your dog has shown me that there is more rascality in Frankfort than I ever imagined," exclaimed Aunt Steiner; "or, upon second thought, I believe they are foreigners. I am sure that no Frankforter would do such tricky things."

"Here is a postal, Aunt, that you have not seen," said Fritz.

"Read it, my boy. Of course it is from another swindler," and Fritz read:

"To No. 37 Bornheimer street:

"I have found your dog, and will bring it to you if you will tell me through the paper how much the reward is.

"H.Y.R."

"Will bring us Pixy, and Pixy sitting by looking at us! Well, well, I would never have believed it! But just see, it wants ten minutes of our dinner hour. Franz, do you and Paul wash your hands and set the table, and Fritz can help clear off when we have finished."

"But Aunt f.a.n.n.y!" exclaimed the astonished Fritz, "when did you cook dinner?"

"I did not cook any, yet we will have it, and a good one, and all we have to do is to set the table, and as quickly as possible."

This was a mystery which the boys could not unravel, yet they hurried to wash and dry their hands, the cloth was spread neatly, napkins put to the places, and the dishes on, when a trim-looking girl came in carrying a long basket in which was a bucket of lentil soup, a roast of veal with vegetables and a plate of fine summer pears.

She nodded pleasantly to all, put the dinner quickly and deftly upon the table, set the basket on a chair, and with a smile and a nod went out and down the steps.

"Well, I never!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fritz. "How did you get this dinner cooked, Aunt f.a.n.n.y?"

"Very easily. All I had to do was to leave an order at a cook shop, and you see the result. Yes, little Fritz, as I said in regard to the carriage, in a large city one can get the comforts and luxuries of life if he has the money. Without that, many doors and also hearts have to remain closed. I ordered a dinner to-day because it is a change for me as well as for you, for it is very seldom I have a meal except as I prepare it myself. Now let us eat our dinner."

They took their seats, the blessing was asked as usual, and Mrs. Steiner carved the roast, giving generous pieces to the hungry boys.

The soup was all that could be desired, as was each dish of the prepared meal, and they sat at the table after they finished until the girl came for her basket and bucket and departed, and Fritz was helping take the dishes to the kitchen, when the door bell rang.

"Now I wonder if that is another policeman?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Aunt Steiner, as she went to the door and opened it.

There stood a stout young man with a cigarette between his teeth, who set one of his feet within the room, so that she could not have closed the door had she tried. He was leading a black dog by a rope--which squeezed past him into the room--and he did not appear to think it necessary to remove his cap, as he said with a foreign accent: "Dog lost--I got him, yes, I brought him."

The dog was black, but much larger than Pixy, was s.h.a.ggy and unkempt, and had a cross and savage look, very different from the well-kept and gentle Pixy.

"We have found our dog," replied Mrs. Steiner. "I am sorry that you went to the trouble of bringing one."

"Found your dog? Where is he?"

"Fritz, bring Pixy here," called his aunt, and Fritz came with his dog, followed by Franz and Paul.

"I have been more than half an hour coming here with this dog in answer to your advertis.e.m.e.nt, and should be paid for my trouble," said the young man, gruffly.

"It is not our fault that you came. It is not our dog. See, he is not at all like ours and he does not answer to the name of Pixy."

"See if he don't," and he jerked the dog's head up by the cord as he called "Pixy!"

"No matter if his name is Pixy, he is not our dog. Our dog is here, as you see."

The man grew angry and raised his voice, and the dogs, who had been eyeing each other with no friendly looks, snarled and sprang upon each other, and the small entry was the scene of such a fierce battle, and resounded with such shrill yelps and much thumping and b.u.mping about that the very coats and hats on the pegs trembled. Pixy was full of fight, but the strange dog was much the larger, and scored a victory, while Pixy ran howling under the sofa in the dining-room.

Mrs. Steiner was so weak from fright that she had to hold to the open door for support; and tears were running down Fritz's cheeks. They all hoped that the man would leave, but no, he wanted money. He changed his reason for demanding it, claiming that he should have payment for the injury to his dog.

"Asking for money when your wild beast dragged our poor Pixy over the floor as if he were a bundle of old rags?" cried Mrs. Steiner in astonishment.

"Your dog commenced it! He snarled at my dog."

"He did it from fright, I think, and your dog bit him and tore out some of his silky, black hair, and Pixy is now lying under the sofa, his teeth chattering from fear."