Bridgewater State University - Alpha Yearbook (Bridgewater, MA)

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NORMAL OFFERING 21 terrier held a large space, and today he eagerly set out in search of Rags, as he called him. The lush grass around the hedge brushed his freckled faceg the cool, dark earth felt refreshing as he slid along to the terrier pen. A yelp of delight greeted him as his hand closed over Rags' shaggy peltg and the dog licked the ill-kempt hands in loving welcome. Thought I never would come, did yer ole feller? questioned Andie, stroking the excited animal as it squirmed with glee in his arms. Gee, I couldn't forget yer, doggie Z Together they ran around the edge of the duck pond, the terrier snapping playfully, licking the hand that teased him, jumping, rol- licking. I The afternoon waned. The humming of the bees ceased, and the tall lilies by the water's edge nodded to and fro in the gentle evening breeze. From far off in the valley came the sound ofa cowbell, and Andie realized that he must go. He looked sadly at the terriernestling in the crook of his arm, and the thoughts that coursed through his brain were long thoughts. Why should lVIr. Nielson own this huge estate, this beautiful garden, the lovely mansion in the distance, horses, servants, and wonderful dogs, while he, Andie, felt that he would be happy with just one Ii-log which he couldn't have? It wasn't fair, he thought. Rags, ole feller, he murmured. Ain't it a cruel world, though? The dog's eloquent eyes sought those of his chosen master in mute acquiescence. I Do you know, Rags, Andie continued, lifting the dog up to his chest, the two forepaws being clenched against his body, 'Tve a mind to take yer away from all this! I know you and me'd make iirst-rate pals. Uncle .Iock'd never bother about yer any more'n he bothers 'bout me. Then again, ole Mr. Nielson'd never miss yer. What d'yer say, Rags, eh? The dog replied in the only way dogs can, by yelping plaintively, his eyes dumbly appealing. Andie rose. You won't mind journeyin' in my blouse, will yer, Rags? You know folks is bound to be cur'ous, and I just natchully don't like explainin'.

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20 NORMAL OFFERING K Efhrnngh the 1Hirket Ellvnre NDIE MACGREGOR did not mean to be a thief. If you had called him such, he would have resented it bit- XW' terly, and with all the vehemence of twelve years he would have tried to justify himself. Times were hard, ' and the hungry mouths that clamored about Andie's ' a uncle for food were as those about the proverbial woman who lived in a shoe. Work was scarce in the little town, and hungry boys must eat. At an early age Andie, an orphan, had learned to shift for himself 3 and little by little the habit of taking what he needed or wanted had become part of his moral code. One sultry summer afternoon, when all of Crawford had sought shelter from the merciless sun, Andie shambled aimlessly up Nielson Hill. The locusts hummed in the trees by the roadside, underneath his feet the scorching sand lay hotg and the lazy crow of a fowl in a nearby field smote the heavy air. As he shufied on, the tall picket fence of the Nielson estate came in view. Above it towered the hollyhocks, the larkspur, and the scarlet acacias, around which the bees hovered in greedy delight. At the familiar sight he quickened his steps. In a twinkling he found a loosened picket and crawled through, and with gleeful abandon he rolled down the mossy slope to the duck pond. He dabbled his burning feet in the cool water and let the moist leaves of the overhanging willow fan his brow. Heat and discomfort were forgotten, but his joy was incomplete. Close by the duck pond were the Nielson kennels. Sykes, the keeper, had put four young Irish terriers in an open pen, near the hedge that encircled the pond. On the day when Andie had Hrst discovered the duck pond he had made friends with one of these puppies, and every day since then the dog watched for his coming. It was an easy matter for Andie to crawl up under the hedge and lift the animal out and as long as he was back by feeding time it mattered little to old Sykes. In the young lad's heart the little black and tan

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22 NORMAL OFFERING The deed was done. In another moment Andie had reached the picket fence and was about to clamber through with his precious burden, when on his shoulder he felt the weight of a strong hand. His heart stood still in his bosom. Like the Spartan youth of old, who concealed a fox in his tunic, Andie faced the man who had detained him, with a detached and innocent air. You enjoy my garden, lad? asked a kindly voice. The boy looked askance at the tall elderly man in flannels. He wondered if he had heard aright, and if the blue eyes that twinkled so humorously under shaggy grey brows were not those of some phantom in his own brain. Kindness was rare in Andie's experience. Yes, sir, he replied, non-committally. i I often spend the afternoon in this part of the garden when it is hot, the man went on, smiling down at Andie the while, and I have envied you your daily privilege of rolling down to the duck pond. Andie marvelled. Rags squirmed uneasily. It made me remember the days when a swimming hole was the greatest delight, Mr. Nielson was saying. 'I've often wanted to talk to you, but hated to spoil your fun. You seem fond of one of the Irish terriersg if you like,- A horrible feeling of remorse swept over Andie's soul. All that was good in the lad came to the surface before this man's gentleness. He felt an unfamiliar shame for having stolen. Mr. Nielson, he stammered, interrupting the quiet voice, please, please don't say any more. Yes, I do love Rags, he's a great pal, and-I've always wanted a dog- Mr. Nielson nodded kindly, but a sudden embarrassment pos- sessed Andie. Rags was whining softly, being unable to understand his strange position. A lVIr. Nielson 1 Andie cried in distress. 6I stole your dog! He's here in my blouse-but I'll work to pay for him. I'll dig potatoes, I'll weed your garden. I'll do anything! If you'l1 only, only- Andie broke down. Rags, released, scampered to the ground happy to be again at liberty. Mr. Nielson laid his arm across the shoulders of the miserable boy. He had hoped that he would confess. Day after day his inter- est in the lad augmented as he watched him at play, and he had counted a great deal on the goodness buried deep under the apparent unworthiness.