St. Nicholas/Volume 41/Number 1/Taking Care of Prinnie
TAKING CARE OF PRINNIE
BY REBECCA DEMING MOORE
“Now, Nathalie, put on your hat and take a run out in this nice, bright sunshine,” said Mrs. Barnes, as her small daughter was preparing to curl herself up in a little knot over a book.
“Oh, Mother dear, please let me read instead!” pleaded Nathalie. “You know it 's no fun at all running about with just me. Mabel and Helen and Belle have all gone away for the summer, and I feel so ‘conspikerous’ going out all alone.”
Mrs. Barnes sighed. This was to be the hardest part of that stay-at-home summer which she and Mr. Barnes had agreed was necessary this year.
“Just go a little way to please Mother,” she continued. “Stay-in-the-house girls don’t get any rosy cheeks.”
So Nathalie with a pout put away the story-book, and, taking her hat, walked listlessly down the street. Soon, however, she quickened her pace. “I ’ll go down to Mr. McAllister’s,” she said to herself, “to see the puppies. It ’s been two whole weeks since I 've seen them. Perhaps, if Mr. McAllister is there, he ’ll let me go in and play with Prinnie.”
Now Mr. McAllister raised puppies to sell, and kept them in a big yard quite surrounded by a board fence. Nathalie had found a way of climbing this fence by sticking her little toes into a few convenient knot-holes. Once on top, she could watch all the dog families, and especially her favorites, some dear, silky, King Charles spaniels. The flower of this family she had christened Prinnie. He had the longest ears of all, and the pinkest tongue, and his soft brown eyes looked up to Nathalie’s and said so plainly, “Oh, how I would like to get up there, little girl, and make friends with you!” She knew that he was a King Charles, so she had named him, first, “Prince Charles”; but that seemed quite too dignified a name for such a frisky bit of a dog, so “Prince Charles” became “Prince Charlie,” and then “Prince” alone, and finally “Prinnie.”
A few minutes later found Nathalie safe on her perch on the fence, delightedly watching the three spaniels romping with their mother.
“Oh, my dear, dear little Prinnie!” she called. “Have n’t you missed your Nathalie the last two weeks? I ’ve been so busy getting all my friends ready to go to the country and sea-shore that I have n’t had time to come to see you. Now I 'm left all alone, and I have n’t any little brothers and sisters to play with as you have, Prinnie love. Oh, Prinnie, if I could only get down and squeeze you, I 'd feel so much better! Do you suppose Mr. McAllister would mind very much if I just gave you one pat on your nice, flat little head?”
“Mind, lassie; mind,” said a good-natured voice; ‘“nothing would give Sandy McAllister more pleasure. Come, give me your wee hands, and I ’ll jump you down.”
Then when Prinnie allowed himself to be petted and cuddled on Nathalie’s arm, Mr. McAllister went on: “My, how you ’re loving the wee doggie! You ought to be having one of your own. You 're Mr. Barnes’s lassie, are n’t you? I mind often seeing you on the top of that fence.”
Nathalie replied that she was afraid her papa could n’t buy her a dog this summer; she was n't even having any new dresses.
“I was n’t speaking of buying a dog,’ Mr. McAllister continued. “But how would you like to be taking care of one for me? There s a fine good mon who ’s spoke’ for this wee doggie you call Prinnie, but he does n't want him till fall. Now, if your mama is willing, I ’ll just let you take him till Mr. Sampson sends for him, providing you promise to take care of him just as I tell you.”
“To keep him till fall!” exclaimed Nathalie. “Oh, Mr. McAllister, do you really, really mean it? I think you ’re the very, very best man in the world, except Papa, of course.”
“Perhaps there ’s not monny thinkin’ the same,” chuckled Mr. McAllister; “but run along, lassie, and ask your mama, and if she ’s willing, you may come back for the wee doggie.”
Nathalie could almost have jumped the board fence, she was so cxcited, but Mr. McAllister set her down on the other side, and off she ran.
Mrs. Barnes at first looked a shade doubtful. A puppy in the house, even if he were the “most darlingest, sweetest, angelest puppy that ever was,” meant chewed-up shoes and torn papers; but soon her face lightened.
“On these conditions,” she said, “Prinnie may come to stay with us this summer. He must have long, long walks every day on the outskirts of the town, where there are open fields for him to romp in. He may stay in the house only nights and when it is stormy. You must also take full charge of his meals, and keep his long coat in good order. Back to Mr. McAllister he must go the first time you forget any of these rules.”
Nathalie fairly flew back to the top of Mr.
MceAllister’s board fence. The good man did
not have to ask her the verdict. When he had
lifted her to the ground, he placed Prinnie in 
“‘Come, give me your wee hands, and I’ll jump you down.’” her arms. Then he told her she must listen very carefully to the directions for Prinnie’s care. He showed her just how to prepare his food, and warned her not to allow him to eat between meals, for he said that was as bad for wee doggies as for lassies.
“And,” he concluded, “if you 're forgetting anything, come back and ask Sandy McAllister; and you might be coming down now and again to show me how the little fellie ‘s prospering. 1 have n't any wee Tassies of my own now.”
From that day, it was a different Nathalie in the little house on the street, or, rather, not in the little house, for Nathalie did little but eat and sleep in the house except when it rained. Prinnie must have his long tramps every day.
“Little dogs must take a great deal of exercise to keep well,” Mr. McAllister had said.
What fun they had together! Prinnie chasing chipmunks and barking furiously at their antics, while Nathalie picked flowers and joined him in mad scampers over the fields. He would go into bushes and come out fairly bristling with sticks and leaves and sometimes burs. Then what a brushing there had to be when they got home!
Prinnie would sit sadly but patiently while Nathalie combed out the hateful tangles and told him never, never to go into such places again. Prinnie would listen solemnly, but the very next day, perhaps, he would find a still more “burry” place.
Nathalie's doll family was quite neglected that summer, for one could scarcely hold even a well-behaved doll-child, and be ready to dart after an excited dog at any moment. Nathalie's largest doll, Baby Griselda, or Grizzie, had most cause for complaint. Unfortunately for Griselda, her clothes just fitted Prinnie. Part of every day's program was to dress Prinnie in Grizzie's white dress, and tie her dainty baby cap over his long ears, and to hold him tightly in her arms as she paced the yard singing a soft lullaby. Prinnie would lie meekly quiet; he would even close his eves lazily; but let Nathalie lower him gently into Grizzie's cradle, and relax her hold but a moment, and two brown eyes would open wide, four black legs would make a wild dash across the lawn, and one doll’s dress would need some of Nathalie's most careful mending hefore it was fit to return to its rightful owner.
Letters from Nathalie's friends at the sca-
shore or in the country excited no envy in her.
What were the delights of bathing and hoating
compared with caring for Prinnie and teaching
him new tricks?
“NATHALIE’S DOLL FAMILY WAS QUITE NEGLECTED THAT SUMMER.”
He would bark prettily for a lump of sugar: he could sneeze most entrancingly for any dainty. But Nathalie remembered Mr. McAllister's advice, and did not allow him many. She had to content herself with very little candy, for Prinnie would beg so bewitchingly for a share that it was hard not to spoil him.
She carried him dutifully down to sec his master, but some way or other, although Mr. McAllister was very kind and praised her care, it always made her feel a little sad to go there.
And so the long summer days slipped on. Nathalie was brown and rosy, Prinnie sleek and bright-eyed. July, August had gone; now September was here, and in a few days, Nathalie's little friends would come back and enter school. She would be glad to see them, but—
“When is fall?” she asked her father that evening at supper.
“Oh, fall has really begun now.” he replied.
The fall was really here, and she must—that dreadful man who had ordered Prinnie would want— The thought was too dreadful to finish. She ought to take him back at once, take Prinnie back—her pet—Prinnie, whose rough, pink tongue had awakened her every morning—whose daily meal she had carefully prepared. Prinnie, who had been her companion every minute for two long months.
She was moody and silent all the next day. She did not dare walk by Mr. McAllister's board fence.
In the evening, the blow fell. Her father announced at supper, “Mr. McAllister says the man who owns your dog is coming around for him to-morrow. You can take Prinnie over in the morning.”
Nathalie could not eat any more supper that night. The top of Prinnie’s little head was all wet with salt tears when she laid him in his basket.
The next morning, she arose early. There was much to be done. The blow was a harsh one, but if Prinnie must go, he should go in state. Nathalie washed and ironed Grizzie's white dress and bonnet. Then, after giving Prinnie a careful combing and brushing, she dressed him in these garments for the last time.
With Prinnie clasped tightly in her arms, she sadly set out for Mr. McAllister's. Perhaps the gentleman would not come after all. If only she could keep Prinnie a few days longer! But no, Mr. McAllister was talking to a pleasant-faced stranger. The time had come. Nathalie walked straight up to the strange man, and, struggling to keep down the lump in her throat, she held out Prinnie.
“Here 's—your—d-o-g—s-i-r,” she managed to sob: and the tears fell in torrents.
Prinnie, whom the astonished gentleman had failed to take from Nathalie's outstretched arms, made his customary dash for liberty. While Nathalie was recovering him, Mr. Sampson heard the story from Mr. McAllister.
When Nathalie came up a few minutes later with the struggling Prinnie, the stranger remarked: “My little girl, who, by the way, is a big little girl, has changed her mind about this dog. She wants a large dog, a collie. So here I am with two dogs on my hands, and only room for one. Do you suppose you could persuade your mother to let you keep on taking care of this one as your very own? If so, he is yours.”