Chapter IV
BULKA AND POOR CECCO DECIDE TO SEE THE WORLD
In the morning when Poor Cecco woke he had forgotten all about his tail. But he remembered it as soon as he jumped out of bed and stood up. It felt so funny without it. There was nothing to wag but a little stump that went to and fro very fast, like a clock with the pendulum taken off.
“That’s not so bad!” thought Poor Cecco, and skipped over to look at himself in the glass. “Half a tail is better than no tail. Besides, many of the best people wear it that way!”
It was quite early, but there was already light in the room. Long strips of sunlight came in under the drawn window-shade. All the toys were asleep. They were very tired from staying up so late the night before.
“Now is the time to go for a walk!” said Poor Cecco, and he called to Bulka very softly so as not to waken the others.
Bulka had fallen asleep with his nose on the edge of the doll’s cradle. But he woke up at once with a jump, rubbing his eyes.
“We are going for a walk!” said Poor Cecco.
“But how about your tail?” Bulka asked.
“My tail can very well look after itself,” Poor Cecco replied. “Besides, if we stay here the others will want to play at hospital, and that I can’t stand. Do you remember the last time Tubby had measles and Virginia pinned the bedclothes on her to keep them tidy?”
Of course Bulka remembered. The pin had gone right into Tubby’s middle, and Virginia was quite annoyed because she had to pull it out again.
“This time,” Poor Cecco said, “we’ll give them something that won’t matter, to practise on!”
So he fetched a stick of firewood from the box in the kitchen. They put it in the doll’s cradle and pulled the covers up close, and it looked quite like a real wooden person lying there.
No one was astir in the house. Outside on the doorstep Murrum, returned from his wanderings, was sniffing round the milk-bottles. He gave Poor Cecco a surly look.
“Now we know where the milk goes!” jeered Poor Cecco.
But he had to dodge quickly down the steps and round the rain-water butt. Lucky for him that Murrum was feeling stuff and drowsy!
The road stretched out, like a great ribbon reaching to the ends of the world. The sun shone down, and all the grass blades had gleaming tips. It was a fine day to set out for adventures. Presently a man overtook them, driving a wagon piled high with hay.
“Do you want a lift?” he cried. “It’s lucky to meet one wooden leg, so four must be better still! Climb up on my wagon, and I’ll take you into the town.”
Bulka and Poor Cecco climbed up. The countryman cracked his whip, and away they went down the road. This was better than the express-wagon! The hay was as soft and springy as a feather bed. But one must take care not to fall off, and that wasn’t so easy; the wagon pitched and swayed like a ship at sea, and Poor Cecco had to cling tight with all his paws. As for Bulka, he just lay and bounced.
That was a fine way to ride into town, with all the bells on the harness jingling and the wagon wheels a creak and the driver snapping his whip. The only trouble was that Bulka, long before they passed the last milestone, began to feel seasick.
The driver pulled up his horses just past the bridge at the beginning of the town.
“Now I must put you down,” he said, “for I have to drive on to the dealer and sell my hay. So good-bye, and thank you for your company!”
And being a nice man, he reached out his arm and helped them to the ground.
By the end of the bridge a blind man was sitting, with his back against the wall, dozing in the sunshine. Beside him sat a little black dog, keeping watch over a tin can that was placed there for pennies. There were only three pennies in it as yet, for it was still early and not many people had passed over the bridge. The blind man was very old, with a long white beard, and the little black dog was old too, and turning grey about the whiskers. But he was a pleasant-looking dog, and Poor Cecco, being a stranger in the town, thought it well to be polite to every one. So he said:
“It’s a fine morning!”
“It is a fine morning,” returned the little black dog without turning his head, “and fine enough for you who can run about and enjoy it! Not that I grudge it you, but it’s small pleasure to sit here day in and day out, and never a chance to stretch my legs a bit and see what’s going on in the world. No, we who have to work don’t get much fun out of life, and that’s the truth!”
“Why do you have to sit there all day?” asked Poor Cecco. “Don’t you ever take a holiday?”
“And who’d look after my old man here, if I went gadding about?” said the little dog. “I’m in charge of him, and he can’t be left to himself. He’s a good sort, so far as that goes, and I’m quite fond of him, but I don’t mind saying I’d like a change now and again. I fetch him out every morning and I take him home at night, and between whiles I must sit here and look after the pennies.”
Poor Cecco peered into the tiny cup.
“I should think the pennies could very well look after themselves,” he said.
“That shows how much you know about it,” returned the little dog. “It’s easy to tell you're from the country, even if I hadn’t seen you ride up on the hay wagon! Still, I like the look of you, and I can’t say that of every one.”
“Suppose I take your place for a while?” said Poor Cecco, who was anxious to be friendly. “I’ll sit here and watch the pennies, and give you a chance to walk about a bit and see the town.”
The little dog stared at him.
“That’s an idea worth thinking about,” he said. “But how can I tell you’ll look after the business properly? I can’t have my old man robbed by any one who may come along.”
“Leave that to me,” said Poor Cecco. “As for Bulka here, he’ll sit by and help me. Only take your head out of the collar and let me get mine in.”
So the little dog pulled his head out of the collar, very carefully, so as not to waken the old man, and Poor Cecco slipped his head through instead. The collar was far too big, but he managed to prop it up somehow, and there he sat on the pavement, with the tin cup at his feet.
“That’s a neighbourly act,” said the little dog. “I will do as much for you, some day. Now look pleasant, and above all, don’t forget to wag your tail for a penny! It pleases the people and draws custom.”
And he strolled off down the road, very pleased with himself, stretching his legs and sniffing at all the corners like any fine gentlemanly dog of leisure.
POOR CECCO GOES INTO BUSINESS
No one before had ever seen a wooden dog that wagged its tail; it was as good as going to the circus, and the pennies rattled down.
“That’s the sort of dog I wouldn’t mind keeping myself,” said the countryman.
The first passer-by paid no attention at all, but strode by in a great hurry without even looking their way. The second paused and stared, but just as Poor Cecco was getting his half tail ready to wag, he too passed on. But the third one stopped long enough to put his hand in his pocket and drop a penny into the tin cup, and thump went Poor Cecco’s tail on the pavement, just as the little black dog had told him. He couldn’t wag it sideways, for it wasn’t made that way, but he lifted it up and let it drop—bang—just like a door-knocker, and that did quite as well.
“That’s a fine sort of dog you’ve got,” said the stranger, who had the look of a countryman.
The blind man aroused, and nodded his head.
“He’s a good enough dog,” he said.
“And he won’t eat you out of house and home either, I’ll be bound,” said the man.
“He eats what he can get,” returned the blind man, “but we must all do that.”
“That’s the sort of dog I wouldn’t mind keeping myself,” said the countryman. “I suppose you wouldn’t be wanting to sell him?”
“No, I wouldn’t sell him,” said the blind man. “We’ve been friends too long, and you don’t find a dog like him every day.”
Poor Cecco thought the little black dog might well be pleased to hear that, for of course the blind man couldn’t know that they had changed places. Other passers-by stopped, seeing the countryman standing there, and they too had pennies to drop in the cup. Soon there was quite a crowd. No one before had ever seen a wooden dog that wagged its tail; it was as good as going to the circus, and the pennies rattled down. One man put as many as three. And when they grew tired of staring and passed on others came forward to take their places. Poor Cecco’s tail went thump—thump—on the pavement; he could scarcely keep count any more and soon the cup was overflowing. Those who had no more pennies put in dimes and nickels. Business was certainly flourishing.
The old blind man had never known such a good morning before.
“It must be because the sun is shining,” he said to himself as he heard the coins clinking in the cup. “Every one is in a good humour. Yes, it must certainly be a very sunny day!”
In the middle of it all the little black dog came strolling back. There was such a crowd that he had to push his way between the people’s legs.
“You’ve surely done well!” he said. “I give credit where credit’s due, and I’m sorry I called you a hayseed. I can see now you’ve got a head for affairs, and if you like to stay here and go into partnership with me and my old man we’ll give you a share in the business and a corner to sleep in at night.”
But that didn’t suit Poor Cecco at all. He was tired of sitting still by now, and his tail was quite stiff and painful from so much thumping. He was glad enough to slip his head out of the collar and let the little dog take his place again.
“Business in all very well,” he said, “but my friend and I came out to see the world, and I’ve only seen part of it as yet. Still I’ve learned how money can be made, and that’s always useful if you happen to want it.” And he thanked him kindly and went on his way, though not before the little dog had insisted on Poor Cecco accepting four pennies, three for himself and one over for his friend.
“Bulka will be pleased with this!” thought Poor Cecco.
But when he turned round to look for Bulka, Bulka wasn’t there!
