xt7n5t3fz883 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7n5t3fz883/data/mets.xml Johnston, Annie F. (Annie Fellows), 1863-1931. 1900  books b92-237-31299217 English L.C. Page, : Boston : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Story of Dago  / by Annie Fellows Johnston ; illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry. text Story of Dago  / by Annie Fellows Johnston ; illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry. 1900 2002 true xt7n5t3fz883 section xt7n5t3fz883 


















THE STORY OF DAGO

 







              Works of

 Annie Fellows Johnston
                 'A
 THE LITTLE COLONEL SERIES
The Little Colonel   .   .   .   .50
The Giant Scissors. .    .   .    .50
Two Little Knights of Kentucky.   .50
(The three 'tories al,-e are also published in one
rolrne, entitled The I idle ( omlel Io5ries, 150.)
The Little Colonel's House Party  .    1.00
The Little Colonel's Holidays .   .    1.50
The Little Colonel's Hero     net, 1.20
The Little Colonel at Boarding-School
                 .a          net, 1.20



          OTHER BOOKS
Big Brother    .
Ole Mammy's Torment .
The Story of Dago .
Cicely
Aunt 'Liza's Hero
Asa Holmes    .
Flip's "Islands of Providence"
Songs Ysame .
                 S4



     pound;50
     .50
     .50
. 'et, .40
. net, .40
    1.00
    1.00
    1.00



L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY
200 Summer Street, Boston, Mass.

 This page in the original text is blank.

 
























































"4IT WAS HER SWINGING AND JERKING ON THE ROPE
            THAT RANG THE BELL."

 




THE STORY OF DAGO




                   BY

     ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
 AUTHOR OF "THE LITTLE COLONEL," " BIG BROTHER,"
   "OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT," "THE GAl I OF THE
     GIANT SCISSORS," "TWVO LITTLE KNIGHTS
            OF KENTUCKY," ETC.



    Ellustratrb bp
ETHELDRED B. BARRY



      BOSTON
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
        1900

 






















               Copt)'rr-ght .rg

      By L. C. PAGE AND COMP'ANY
               (f1CORPORAmTEL

             All ri,,hts reserved





















               oraonfal press
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds 9k Co,
           Boston. Mass., U. S. A.

 























                      TO

               11 Oifn tbe faonk "

           WHOSE PRANKS ARE LINKED
WITH THE BOYHOOD MEMORIES OF DR. GAVIN FULTON,
  ONE OF THE BEST OF PHYSICIANS AND FRIENDS,

              THIS STORY OF DAGO
           IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED

 This page in the original text is blank.

 






















                                      FAGE
  I. THIS IS THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD
       TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON MON-
       DAY             .               I
  11. WHAT DAGO SAID TO THE MIRROR-
       MONKEY ON TUESDAY           -.6
 III. WHAT THE MIRROR-MONKEY HEARD
       ON WEDNESDAY    -   .   .      32
 IV. THE TALE THE MIRROR-MONKEY HEARD
       ON THURSDAY '   .   -   -      46
  V. WHAT DAGO TOLD ON FRIDAY -        6o
  VI. WHAT DAGO SAID TO THE MIRROR-
       MONKEY ON SATURDAY  .           72
VII. WHAT   DAGO TOLD THE MIRROR-
       MONKEY ON SUNDAY    -   -   -  92
VIII. DAGO BIDS FAREWELL TO THE MIR-
       ROR-MONKEY  -   -   -   -      102

 This page in the original text is blank.

 














                                         PAGE
"IT WAS HER SWINGING AND JERKING ON THE
   ROPE THAT RANG THE BELL"   .  Frontispiece
"THE GARDENER FISHED HER OUT OF THE
   FOUNTAIN"'.    .   .   .   .    .   .   9
"HER HANDS WERE FOLDED IN HER LAP"     .  19
MATCHES'S FUNERAL   .      .   .   .   .  25
" SHE FAIRLY STIFFENED WITH HORROR".  .   43
",AT LAST THE BLUE CUSHION WAS EMPTY, AND
   I SAT DOWN ON IT"    .   .   .      .  48
"'OH, YOU LITTLE TORMENT!' SHE CRIED"  .63
"THEIR VOICES RANG OUT LUSTILY "  .   .  73
"ALL WENT WELL UNTIL WE REACHED AN
   ALLEY CROSSING"    .   .   .   .    . M1
"GOOD-BYE! OLD FELLOW!"   .   .    .   . 10o

 This page in the original text is blank.

 

  THE STORY OF DAGO.




              CHAPTER I.

THIS IS THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD TO THE
        ATIRROR-MONKEY ON MONDAY.

  HERE I am at last, Ring-tail ! The boys
have gone to school, thank fortune, and little
Elsie has been taken to kindergarten  Every-
body in the house thinks that I am safe up-stairs
in the little prison of a room that they made for
me in the attic. I suppose they never thought
how easy it would be for me to swing out of
the open window and climb down the lightning-
rod.  Wouldn't Miss Patricia be surprised if
she knew that I am down here now in the par-
lour, talking to you, and sitting up here among
all these costly, breakable things!

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



  I have been wanting to get back into this
room ever since that first morning that I slipped
in and found you sitting here in the looking-
glass, but the door has been shut every time
that I have tried to come in. Do you remem-
ber that morning  You were the first ring-
tail monkey that I had seen since I left the
Zoo, and you looked so much like my twin
brother, who used to swing with me in the
tangled vines of my native forests, and pelt
me with cocoantut-shells, and chatter to me all
day long under those hot, bright skies, that I
wanted to put my arms around you and hug
you; but the looking-glass was between us.
Some day I shall break that glass, and crawl
back behind there with you.
  It is a pity that you are dumb and do not
seem to be able to answer me, for if you could
talk to me about the old jungle days I would
not be so homesick. Still, it is some comfort
to know that you are not deaf, and I intend to
come in here every morning after the children
go to school; that is, every morning that I find
the door open. I've had a very exciting life in
the past, and I think that you'll find my experi-
ences interesting.



2

 

THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD.



  Of course I'll not begin at the beginning, for,
being a ring-tail monkey yourself, you know
what life is like in the great tropical forests.
Perhaps it would be better to skip the circuLs
part, too, for it was a very unhappy time that
followed, after I was stolen from home by some
men who came on a big ship, and carried me
away to be sold to a travelling showman.
  It makes my back ache to this day to think
of the ring-master's whip. I was as quick to
learn as any of the other monkeys who were
in training, but an animal who has clone nothing
all his life but climb and play can't learn the
ways of a human being all in one week. I was
taught to ride a pony and drive a team of gr-ey-
hounds, and to sit at a table and feed myself
with a silver folk.  One half-hour I was made
to be a gentleman, and wear a dress suit, and
tip my hat to the ladies, and the next I would
be expected to do something entirely different;
be a policeman, maybe, and arrest a rowdy dog
in boxing-gloves. Oh, I couldn't begin to tell
you the things I was expected to do, from drill-
ing like a soldier to wheeling a doll carriage and
smoking a pipe. Sometimes when I grew con-
fused, and misunderstood the signals and did



3

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



things all wrong, the ring-master would swing
his whip until it cracked like a pistol, and shout
out, in a terrible voice, "d Oh, you stupid little
beast ! \Vhat's the matter with you "  That
always frightened me so that it gave me the
shivers, and then he would shout at me again
until I was still more confused and terrified,
and couldn't do anything to please him.
  Stupid little beast indeed ! I wished some-
times that I could have had him captive, back
in the jungles of the old home forest, just to
hav-e seen which would have been the stupid
one there. How long would it have taken him
to have learned an entirely different way of
living, I wonder. How many moons before he
could swving by his hands and hunt for his food
in the tree-tops  He might have learned after
awhile where the wild paw-paws hang thickest,
and where the sweetest, plumpest bananas grow;
but when would he ever have mastered all the
wood-lore of the forest folk,-or gained the
quickness of eye and ear and nose that belongs
to all the wise, wild creatures  Oh, how I
longed to see him at the mercy of our old ene-
mies, the Snake-people! One of those pythons,
for instance, " who could slip along the branches



4

 

THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD.



as quietly as moss grows." That would have
given him a worse fit of shivers than the ones
he used to give me.
  I'll not talk about such a painful subject
any longer, but you may be sure that I was
glad when something happened to the show.
The owner lost all his money, and had to sell
his animals and go out of the business. After
that I had a very comfortable winter in a
zoological- garden out West, near where we
stranded. Then an old white-haired man from
California bought me to add to his private
collection of monkeys.  He had half a dozen
or so in his high-walled garden.
  It was a beautiful place, hot and sunny like
my old home, and full of palm-trees and tangled
vines and brilliant flowers. The most beautiful
thing in it was a great rose-tree which he
called Gold of Ophir. It shook its petals into
a splashing fountain where goldfish were always
swimming around and around, and it was hard
to tell which was the brightest, the falling rose-
leaves, or the tiny goldfish flashing by in the
sun.
  There was a lady who used to lie in a ham-
mock under the roses every day and smile at



5

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



my antics. She was young, I remember, and
very pretty, but her face was as white as the
marble mermaid in the fountain.  The old
gentleman and his wife always sat beside her
when she lay in the hammock. Sometimes
he read aloud, sometimes they talked, and some-
times a long silence would fall upon them, when
the splashing of the fountain and the droning
of the bees would be the only sound anywhere
in the garden.
  When they talked, it was always of the same
thing: the children she had left at home,-
Stuart and Phil and little Elsie. I did not listen
as closely as I might have done had I known
what a difference those children were to make
in my life. I little thought that a day was
coming when they were to carry me away from
the beautiful garden that I had grown to love
almost like my old home. But I heard enough
to know that they were as mischievous as the
day is long, and that they kept their poor old
great-aunt Patricia in a woful state of nervous
excitement from morning till night. I gathered,
besides, that their father was a doctor, away
from home much of the time. That was why
their great-aunt had them in charge.



6

 

THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD.



  Their mother had come out to her father's
home in California to grow strong and well.
The sun burned a pink into the blossoms
of the oleander hedges, and the wind blew
life into the swaying branches of the pepper-
trees, but neither seemed to make her any
better. After awhile she could not even be
carried out to her place in the hammock.
Then they sent for Doctor Tremont and the
children.
  The first that I knew of their arrival, the two
boys came whooping down the paths after the
gardener, shouting, " Show us the monkeys,
David! Show us the monkeys! Which one is
Dago, and which one is Matches "
  I did not want to come down for fear that
Stuart might treat me as he had done Elsie's
kitten. I had heard a letter read, which told
how he had tried to cure it of fits. He gave it a
shock with his father's electric battery, and
turned the current on so strong that he killed
it. Not knowing but that he might try some
trick on me, I held back until I saw him feeding
peanuts to Matches. I never could bear her.
She is the only monkey in the garden that I
have never been on friendly terms with, so



7

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



I came down at once to get my share of peanuts,
and hers, too, if possible.
  I must say that I took a great fancy to both
the boys; they were so friendly and good-
natured. They each had round chubby faces,
and hard little fists. There was a wide-awake
look in their big, honest, gray eyes, and their
light hair curled over their beads in little tight
rings. Elsie was only five, - a restless, dimpled
little bunch of mischief, always getting into
trouble, because she would try to do everything
that her brothers did.
  The gardener fished her out of the fountain
twice in the week she was there. She was reach-
ing for the goldfish with her fat little hands,
and toppled in, head first. Phil began the week
by getting a bee-sting on his lip, and a bite
on the cheek from a parrot that he was teasing.
As for Stuart, I think he had climbed every
tree on the place before the first day was
over, and torn his best clothes nearly off his
back. The gardener had a sorry time of it
while they stayed. He complained that "a herd
of wild buffalo turned loose to rend and destroy "
would not have done as much damage to his
fruit and flowers as they. " Not as they means



8

 

THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD.



I   I4,
  4  -_.



to.do it, I don't think," he said.  "But they're
so chock-full of go that they fair runs away
with their selves." The gardener's excitement
did not long last, however.



A
41



J



9



M`R&'
14
I 4,2- -   4

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



  There came a day when there was no noise
in the garden. The boys wandered around all
morning without playing, now and then wiping
their eyes on their jacket sleeves, and talking in
low tones. Once they threw themselves down
on the grass and hid their faces, and cried and
sobbed, until their grandfather came out and led
them away.  The blinds were all drawn next
morning, and the gardener came and cut down
nearly all his lilies, and great armfuls of the
Gold of Ophir roses to carry into the house.
  Another quiet day went by, and then there
was such a rumbling of carriage wheels outside
the garden, that I climbed up a tree and looked
over the high walls. There was a long, slow
procession winding up the white mountain road
toward a far-away grove of pines. I knew then
what had happened.   They were taking the
children's mother to the cemetery, and they
would have to go home without her. "Poor
children," I thought, "and poor old great-aunt
Patricia."
  The next evening I heard the old gentleman
tell David to bring Matches and me into the
house. The next thing I knew I was dropped
into a big bandbox with holes in the lid, and



10

 

THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD.



somebody was buckling a shawl-strap around it.
Then I heard the old gentleman say to Doctor
Tremont, "d Tom, I don't want to add to the
inconveniences of your journey, but I should
like to send these monkeys along to help amuse
the boys. Maybe they'll be some comfort to
them. Dago is for Stuart, and Matches is for
Phil. It would be a good idea to keep them in
their boxes to-night on the sleeping-car. They
are unusually well behaved little animals, but it
would be safer to keep them shut up until the
boys are awake to look after them."
  You can imagine my feelings when I realised
that I was to be sent away. I shrieked and
chattered with rage, but no one paid any atten-
tion to me. I was obliged to settle down in my
box in sulky silence. In a little while I could
feel myself being carried down the porch steps.
Then the carriage door slammed and we jolted
along in the dark for a long time. I knew when
we reached the depot by the bright light stream-
ing through the holes in my box-lid. I was car-
ried up the steps into the sleeping-car, and for
the next quarter of an hour it seemed to me that
my box changed position every two minutes.
The porter was getting us settled for the night



I I

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



  He was about to poke the box that held me
under the berth where little Elsie and her nurse
were to sleep, when Stuart called him from the
berth above, into which he had just climbed. So
I was tossed up as if I had been an ordinary
piece of baggage, the porter little knowinc what
was strapped so carefully inside the bandbox.
  Doctor Tremont and Phil had the section just
across the aisle from ours, and Phil carried his
box up the step-ladder himself, and stowed
Matches carefully away in one corner before he
began to take off his shoes. When the curtains
were all drawn and the car-lights turned down
low so that every one could sleep, Stuart sat up
and began unbuckling the strap around my box.
I knew enough to keep still when he took the
lid off and gently stroked me. I had no inten-
tion of being sent back to the baggage-car, if
keeping quiet would help me to escape the
conductor's eyes.
  Stuart stroked me for a moment, and then,
cautiously drawing aside his curtains, thrust his
head out and looked up and down the aisle.
Everything was quiet. Then he gave the soft-
est kind of a whistle, so faint that it seemed
little more than the echo of one; but Phil heard,



12

 

THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD.



and instantly his head was poked out between
his curtains. Stuart held me up and grinned.
Immediately Phil held up Matches and grinned.
After a funny pantomime by which, with many
laughable gestures, each boy made the other
understand that he intended to allow his pet
freedom all night, they drew in their heads and
lay down.
  Stuart wanted me to sleep on the pillow beside
him, but I was still sulky, and retired to my box
at his feet. In spite of the jar and rumble of
the train I slept soundly for a long time. It
must have been somewhere about the middle of
the night when I was awakened all of a sudden
by a fearful crash and the feeling that I was
pitching headlong down a frightful precipice.
  The next instant I struck the floor with a
force that nearly stunned me. When I gathered
my wits together I found myself in the middle
of the aisle, bruised and sore, with the bandbox
on top of me.
  We had been going with the usual terrific
speed of a fast express, down steep mountain
grades, sweeping around dizzy curves, and
now we had come to a sudden stop without
reason or warning. It gave the train such a



I 3

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



tremendous jar that windows rattled, baggage
lurched from the racks, the porter sprawled
full-length on the floor as I had done, and more
than one head was bumped unmercifully against
the hard woodwork of the berths.  Everybody
sprang up to ask what was the matter. Babies
cried and women scolded and men swore. All
I could do was to whimper with pain and fright
until Stuart came scrambling after me. My
shoulder was bruised and my head aching, and
no one can imagine my terrible fright at such
a rude awakening. If I had not been in the
box, I might have saved myself when the crash
came, but I was powerless to catch at anything
when it went bump over on to the floor.
  The brakeman and conductor came running
in to see what was the matter. Nobody knew
why the train had stopped. It was several
minutes before they discovered the cause, but
I had found out while Stuart was climbing back
to bed with me. Swinging by her hands from
the bell-rope which ran down the centre of the
car, was that miserable little monkey, Matches,
making a fool of herself and everybody else.
Who but that little imp of mischief would have
done such a thing as to get up in the middle of



I4

 

        THE STORY THAT DAGO TOLD.         15

the night and go through a lot of gymnastic
exercises on the bell-rope It was her swinging
and jerking on the rope that rang the bell and
brought the engine to that sudden stop.
  I don't know how the doctor settled it with
the conductor. I know that there was a great
deal said, and Matches and I were both sent
back to the baggage-car. All the rest of the
journey I had an aching head and a bruised
shoulder to keep me in mind of that hateful
little Matches, and I resolved long before we
reached home that I would do something to get
even with her, before we had lived together a
week.

 

CHAPTER II.



WHAT DAGO SAID TO THE MIRROR-MONKEY ON
                 TUESDAY.

  RING-TAIL, what do you think of Miss Patri-
cia  I'm afraid of her. The night we came
home she met us in the hall, looking so tall and
severe in her black gown, with those prim little
bunches of gray curls on each side of her face,
that I went under a chair. Then I thought I
must have misjudged her, for there were tears
in her eyes when she kissed the children, and
I heard her whisper as she turned away, "poor
little motherless lambs ! "  Still I have seen so
many people in the course of my travels that
I rarely make a mistake in reading character.
As soon as she caught sight of me I knew that
my first thought had been right. Her thin
Roman nose went up in the air, and her sharp
eyes glared at me so savagely that I could think
of nothing else but an old war eagle, with
                     i6

 

WHAT DAGO SAID ON TUESDAY.



arrows in its talons. You may have seen them
on silver dollars.
  "Tom Tremont," she exclaimed, "you don't
mean to say that you have brought home a
monkey, ! "  I wish you could have heard the
disgust in her voice. "Of all the little pests in
the world, they are certainly the worst "
  "1 Yes, Aunt Patricia," he answered. "d They've
been a great pleasure to the boys."
  4 They ! " she gasped. "You don't mean to
say that there are tawo ! " Then she saw Matches
climbing up on Phil's shoulder, and words failed
her.
  ,,Yes; their grandfather gave each of the
boys one of his pets. Hle said that they would
be company for them on the way home, and1
would help divert their thoughts from their
great loss. They grieved so, poor little lads."
  That softened Miss Patricia again, and she
said nothing more about our being pests. But
when she passed me she drew her skirts aside
as if she could not bear to so much as brush
against me, and from that hour it has been war
to the knife between us.
  Matches and I were given a little room up in
the attic under the eaves, but at first we were



I 7

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



rarely there during the day. The boys took us
with them wherever they went. We had been
there some time before we were left alone long
enough for me to do any exploring.
  It was almost dark when that first chance
came. I prowled around the attic awhile. Then
I climbed out of the window and swung down
by the vines that covered that side of the house,
to the shutters of the room below. It happened
to be Miss Patricia's room. As I perched on
the top of the shutters, leaning over and cran-
ing my neck, I could see Miss Patricia sitting
there in the dusk beside her open window. Her
hands were folded in her lap, and she was rock-
ing gently back and forth in a high-backed
rocking-chair, with her eyes closed.
  I thought it would be a good chance for me
to take a peep into her room, so I ventured to
swing over and drop dowvn on the window-sill
beside her, on all fours. I did it very quietly,
so quietly, in fact, that I do not see how she
could possibly have been disturbed; yet I give
you my word, Ring-tail, that woman shrieked
until you could have heard her half a mile. I
never was so terrified in all my life. It para-
lysed me for an instant, and then I sprang up



I 8

 

WHAT DAGO SAID ON TUESDAY.



by the vines to the lightning-rod, and streaked
up it faster than any lightning ever came down.
Once in my room, I shook all the rest of the
evening.



  Matches said that Miss Patricia was probably
worse scared than I was, but that's impossible.
I never made a sound, and as for her -why,
even the cook came running when Miss Patricia
began to shriek, and she was in the coal-cellar
at the time, and is deaf in one ear.



19

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



  But Matches always disagreed with me in
everything, and I was not sorry when we parted
company. I'd better tell you about that next.
It happened in this way. Stuart came into the
room one day with Sim Williams, one of the
boys who was alwa) s swarming up the stairs to
see us. Sim was older than Stuart, and one
of those restless, inquiring boys, never satisfied
with letting well enough alone. He was always
making experiments. This time he wanted to
experiment on me with a handful of tobacco,-
coax me to eat it, you know, and see what effect
it Would have. But Stuart objected. He was
afraid it might make me sick, and proposed try-
ing it on Phil's monkey first. So they called
Matches, and the silly little beast was so pleased
and flattered by their attention that she stood
up and ate all they gave her. She did not like
it, I could see that, hut they praised her and
coaxed her, and it turned her head.  Usually
I received the most attention.
  It did not seem to hurt her any, so Sim
offered me some.   But I would not take it.
I folded my hands, first over my ears and then
over my eyes.   Then I held them over my
mouth.   Stuart thought it wonderfully smart



20

 

WHAT DAGO SAID ON TUESDAY.



of me, and so did Sim, when he found that
it was a trick that Stuart's grandfather had
taught me. The old man had an ebony paper-
weight on his library table, which he called
"n the three wvise monkeys of Japan."  They
were carved sitting back to back.  The first
one had its paws folded over its eyes in token
that it must never see more than it ought to
see, the second covered its ears that it might
not hear more than it ought to hear, and the
third solemnly held its paws over its mouth, in
order that it might never say more than it
ought to say.
  Stuart thought that I had forgotten the trick.
He told Sim that it was the only one I knew.
I was glad that he had never discovered that I
am a trained monkey. If he had known how
many tricks I can perform life wouldn't have
been worth living. It would have been like an
endless circus, with me for the only performer.
As it was, I was made to go through that one
trick of the wise monkeys of Japan until I was
heartily disgusted with it, or with anything else,
in fact, that suggested the land of the Mikado.
  Stuart was in a hurry to show me off to the
other fellows, so he caught me up under his



2 I

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



arm, and started off to the ball-ground, where
most of them were to be found. Matches tried
to follow us, but Sim drove her back, and the
last I saw of her she was under the table,
whimpering.  It was a soft little complaining
cry she had, almost like the chirp of a sleepy
bird, and when she made it her mouth drew
up into a pitiful little pucker.
  I slept in the laundry that night, for it was
after dark when we got home, and the boys
were not allowed to carry a light up into the
attic. Next day, when Stuart took me back to
my room, there lay Matches, stretched out on
the floor as dead as a mummy. The tobacco
had poisoned her.  Phil was crying over her
as if his heart would break. He didn't know
what had killed her, and the boys did not see
fit to tell. As for me, I remembered my lesson,
never to say any more than I ought to say, and
discreetly folded my hands over my mouth when-
ever the subject was mentioned.
  I have no doubt but that I could have eaten
as much tobacco as Matches did, and escaped
with only a short illness, but the sickly little
mossback didn't have the constitution that we
ring-tails have. She was a poor delicate crea-



22

 

WHAT DAGO SAID ON TUESDAY.



ture that the least thing affected. I couldn't
help feeling sorry for her, and yet I was so
glad to be rid of her that I capered around for
sheer joy. When I realised that never again
would I be kept awake by her snoring, never
again would I be disturbed by her disagreeable
ways, and that at last I was even with her for
spilling me out of my berth on the sleeping-car,
I swung on my turning-pole until I was dizzy.
No one knew what a jubilee I had all alone that
night in my little room under the eaves.
  Little did I dream of the humiliation in store
for me. The next day I found that Matches
was to have a funeral after school, and that I -
I, who hated her -was to take the part of
chief mourner. The boys took off my spangled
jacket and dressed me up in some clothes that
belonged to Elsie's big Paris doll. They left
my own little cap on my head, but covered it
and me all over with a long crape veil that
dragged on the ground behind me and tripped
me up in front when I tried to walk. It was
pinned tightly over my face, and I nearly
smothered, for it was a hot September after-
noon. I sputtered and gaspedl under the nasty
black thing until I was almost choked. It was



2 3

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



so thick I could scarcely breathe through it, but
the more I sputtered the more it pleased the
children.  They said I seemed to be really
crying and sobbing under my veil, and that I
was acting my part of chief mourner beautifully.
  All the children of the neighbourhood came
to the funeral. There was a band to lead the
procession; a band of three boys, playing on a
French harp, a jew's-harp, and a drum. Johnny
Grey's Newfoundland dog was hitched to the
little wagon that held Matches's coffin. Phil
drove, sitting up solemnly in his father's best
high silk hat with its band of crape. It was
much too large for his head, and slipped down
over his curls until the brim rested on the tips
of his ears. It was serious business for Phil.
His eyes were red and his dirty face streaked
with tears. He had grown to be very fond of
Matches.
  Elsie and I followed on a tricycle. She had
borrowed an old-fashioned scoop bonnet and
a black silk apron from one of the neighbours.
I sat beside her, feeling very hot and uncom-
fortable in the crape veil in which I wvas pinned.
The others walked behind us, two by twvo, in a
long procession. We went five times around



24

 










1-Tj-
   r

 This page in the original text is blank.

 

WHAT DAGO SAID ON TUESDAY.



the circle, while Sim Williams, on the wood-shed
roof, tolled a big auction bell, which he had
borrowed for the occasion.
  When it was all over and the little mound
over Matches's grave had been covered with sod,
the children were loath to stop playing funeral.
They had enjoyed it so much. Somebody said
that we ought to march down the street so that
people could see how funny I looked in my
crape veil ; but I could stand it no longer. When
I saw that the band was really moving toward
the gate, and that Stuart was about to lift me
into the wagon that had carried Matches's coffin,
I shrieked with rage and bit and tore at my veil
until I was soon free.
  In about a minute it was nothing but a heap
of rags and tatters, and Phil and Stuart were
looking at it and then at each other with trou-
bled faces. " It's Aunt Patricia's! " one of
them gasped. "s And it is all torn to bits ! Oh,
Dago, you little mischief, how could you  Now
we'll catch it ! " As if it were my fault. I don't
know what happened when the veil was taken
back. Luckily I had no share in that part of
it, although Miss Patricia seemed to add that
to the long list of grievances she had against



27

 

THE STORY OF DAGO.



me, and her manner toward me grew even
more severe than before.
  The excitement of the funeral seemed to
make Phil forget the loss of Matches that day,
but he cried next morning when Stuart came
down with me on his shoulder, and there was
no frisky little pet for him to fondle and feed.
How he could grieve for her is more than I
could understand. I didn't miss her, - I was
glad she was gone. Every day Phil put fresh
flowers on her grave. Sometimes it was only
a stiff red coxcomb or a little stemless gera-
nium that had escaped the early frost. Some-
times it was only a handful of bright grasses
gone to seed. The doctor's neglected garden
flaunted few blooms this autumn, but the little
fellow, grieving long and sorely, did all he could
to show respect to Matches's memory.
  One day, nearly a month later, he went cry-
ing into his father's office, saying that Matches
was gone. Stuart and Sim Williams had dug
her up and sold her skeleton to a naturalist in
the next block for fifty cents.  He had just
heard of it. I never saw a child so excited.
He was sobbing so hard that he could not
breathe except in great choking gasps, and it



28

 

WHAT DAGO SAID ON TUESDAY.



was some time before his father could quiet
him enough to understand what he was talk-
ing about.
  Oh, but Doctor Tremont was angry! And
yet it did not sound so bad when Stuart had
explained it.  He hadn't thought that he was
doing anything dishonest or Linkind to Phil.
Ile only thought what an easy way it would
be to make fifty cents. Ile didn't see how it
could make any difference to Phil, so long as he
never found it out, and Sim had sworn not to
tell. The mound would still be there, and he
could go on putting flowers on it just the same.
Sim xvas the one who had first spoken of it,
and Sim had half the money.
  I was not in the room all of the time, so I
cannot tell what passed between Stuart and his
father. I could hear the doctor's voice for a
long time, t