Presently there was a rustling in the bushes, then
a hasty, joyful bark, and a little dog sprang forward and greeted
Hildegarde with every demonstration of affection. "Jock! my own dear
little Jock!" she cried, stooping down to caress her favorite. But as
she did so she saw that it was not Jock, but Will, Pink's dog, which was
bounding and leaping about her. Much puzzled, she nevertheless patted
the little fellow and shook paws with him, and told him she was glad to
see him. "But where is your brother?" she cried. "Oh! Willy dog, where
is Jock, and where is Bubble? Bubble, Will! speak!" Will "spoke" as well
as he could, giving a short bark at each repetition of the well-known
name. Then he jumped up on Hilda, and threw back his head with a
peculiar action which at once attracted her attention. She took him up
in her arms, and lo! there was a piece of paper, folded and pinned
securely to his collar. Hastily setting the dog down, she opened the
note and read as follows:--
MISS HILDY,
Simon Hartley he come here early this mornin and he says to
me I was diggin potaters for dinner and he come and leaned
on the fence and says he I've fixed your city gal up fine he
says and I says what yer mean I mean what I says he says
I've fixed her up fine. She thinks a heap of that dorg I
know that ain't spelled right but it's the way he said it
don't she says he I reckon says I Well says he you tell her
to look for him in the pit of the old mill says he.
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