Читать книгу Buddy in School - Howard R Garis - Страница 6

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Some of the boys and girls in Buddy’s class were smiling. A few laughed a little and all of them looked toward the closet door. As for Buddy, he did not know what to do or say. He never thought his hidden dog would bark right out loud in school.

Miss Thatcher did not have to wonder, very long, what kind of an animal it was that was making all that noise. She knew a dog’s bark when she heard it. And now, besides barking and whining, Brick was scratching on the inside of the closet door. He wanted to get out.

“A dog!” exclaimed the teacher. “Whose dog is it? Who put a dog in our closet?”

For a moment the boys and girls looked at one another and then Buddy slowly rose at his desk and, swinging around, said:

“That’s my dog, please, Miss Thatcher.”

“Your dog?” The teacher was much surprised. “Why, Dick—Buddy—you shouldn’t bring your dog to school! Don’t you know that was a wrong thing to do? I don’t like such tricks!”

“Oh, please Miss Thatcher!” exclaimed Buddy, speaking fast now. “It wasn’t a trick! I didn’t think there would be any class in this room and I just left my dog in that closet until I could take him home at noon. I didn’t think he’d bark.”

“But why did you bring your dog to school with you, Buddy?” asked the teacher. “Or perhaps he followed you. In that case it wasn’t your fault. I’ve often heard of dogs following their masters that way.”

“Oh, I brought him with me,” Buddy made haste to say. He was willing to take all the blame. “But I didn’t have time to go back home with my dog after I found him. That’s why I put him in the closet.”

All this time, as Buddy’s voice was heard, Brick kept whining, barking and scratching on the inside of the closet door. He was making a great racket now and with that, and the laughter of the boys and girls, there was little studying being done in Miss Thatcher’s room.

“Was your dog lost and did you find him on your way to school?” asked Miss Thatcher.

“No, I just got my dog a little while ago,” said Buddy. “I took him away from a boy who was going to tie a tin can on his tail—a Gypsy boy—I knocked him over and he chased me, and——”

“My, Buddy! You had quite an adventure,” interrupted Miss Thatcher, and she smiled, which made Buddy feel better. “Suppose you tell us a story about that instead of your prize pumpkin.”

“All right,” said Buddy. He was no longer worried. He was sure the teacher loved dogs as he did.

“But first,” went on Miss Thatcher, “we had better let Fido out of the closet. He is making too much noise.”

“His name is Brick, not Fido,” explained Buddy, “ ‘cause he’s got red hair—just like mine,” and he ran his fingers through his own carrot locks. Buddy wasn’t ashamed of his red hair. “And I guess maybe I’d better let him out of the closet,” Buddy went on as he saw his teacher going toward the door. “He knows me.”

“Perhaps you had better let him out, then,” agreed Miss Thatcher. “Though dogs get to know me very soon,” she added. “I like them, but I can’t say that I want them in my class room,” and again she smiled at Buddy.

“I won’t bring Brick to school any more,” promised the little lad as he left his seat and opened the closet door. There was a wild burst of happy barks and a rush of feet, but Brick, the shaggy, red dog, could not get out of the closet because he was held back by Buddy’s book strap around his neck.

“Down, Brick! Down!” Buddy ordered as the dog tried to stand on his hind legs and run his wet, red tongue over his master’s face. “Down! Keep quiet! Be a good dog!”

With a glad whimper Brick grew quiet and then Buddy loosened the strap from the hook and led his dog out into the room.

“Oh, isn’t he nice!” murmured Agnes Fleck.

“That’s a fine dog!” said Harry Clee.

“I wish I had him!” added Charlie Taylor.

The children seemed to forget they were in school and talked right out in class. Nor did Miss Thatcher stop them. It was the first day, and not often was a dog found in a closet. So she let the boys and girls speak as they pleased.

“There’s my dog!” said Buddy proudly as he led Brick up to the teacher’s platform.

“And a very fine animal he seems to be,” said Miss Thatcher. “Only he hasn’t been well taken care of, Buddy.”

“No, I guess he was a sort of tramp dog before I took him away from that Gypsy who was going to tie a can on his tail,” said Buddy. Miss Thatcher was rubbing Brick’s ears and the dog, after sniffing at her once or twice seemed to be as friendly with her as he was with Buddy. “I guess he’s hungry,” said Buddy.

“I think so, myself,” agreed Miss Thatcher. “Well, suppose you tell us a little about how you found him and then you may take your dog home, Buddy.”

“Oh, may I? Before recess?”

“Yes. It is quite a little time, yet, until recess, and we must begin our lessons soon. I’m afraid there would not be much studying done with a dog in school,” and she laughed a little.

Then Buddy laughed and so did the boys and girls and Brick, knowing he was among friends, wagged his tail which had in it more tick seeds and burrs from the burdock plant than a good dog should have. But Buddy would soon attend to that.

“Stand up here by my desk, Buddy, and tell us all about how you found Brick,” said Miss Thatcher, and Buddy did. At first he was a little nervous but it was no worse than “speaking a piece,” and he had often done that. So he told how he had started for school and how he had kicked the can and how, finally, he had pushed the Gypsy boy over and hurried away with Brick, to hide him, at last, in the closet of the empty room.

“You did just right, Buddy, to stop that boy from harming the dog,” said Miss Thatcher when Buddy had finished the story. “And I am sure you and Brick will become great friends. I only hope you can keep him.”

“Why, do you think that Gypsy will come and take Brick away from me?” asked Buddy, taking a tighter hold of the dog’s strap.

“No, that Gypsy doesn’t seem to own the dog,” said the teacher. “But he must belong to some one and if they come for him, Buddy, you would have to give Brick back.”

“Oh, yes, I s’pose so—but maybe they won’t come,” he added and he hoped, with all his heart, that they wouldn’t. “I want to keep Brick forever!” he said.

“He seems like a very good dog,” said the teacher. “But I think he has been in school long enough,” she added with another laugh. “So you may now be excused, Buddy, and take him home. Then come back and we will get our class work started.”

“Thank you,” said Buddy and as he left the room, leading Brick, more than one boy murmured to himself:

“Gee, I wish I was Buddy!”

Through the streets the red-haired and blue-eyed boy led his dog. He looked around now and then to make sure the Gypsy lad was not sneaking up on him, but there was no sight of that wandering fellow.

“We’ll soon be home, Brick,” said Buddy to his pet. “Then you’ll have something to eat and after school we’ll have packs of fun! Oh, boy! I’m glad I got a dog!”

Buddy jumped up in the air and clicked his heels twice and Brick wagged his tail gladly. In a short time Buddy was safely at his house. He hurried with Brick around to the back door for the dog’s feet were a little muddy and Buddy knew better than to take a dog with muddy feet in the front way.

“Hey, Lola!” called Buddy as he reached the back door. “Whoo-oo!”

“What’s the matter?” asked the maid. “Why, it’s Buddy!” she exclaimed as she caught sight of him. “And with a dog!” she added. “Of all things!”

“He’s my dog!” said Buddy proudly.

“Why aren’t you in school?” asked Lola. “And what do you mean—your dog?”

“ ‘Cause I had to come out to bring my dog home. Hey, Lola, give me something to eat for Brick, will you? He’s awful hungry!”

“He looks it!” chuckled the maid. “I can count his ribs!”

As she was turning back into the kitchen for some scraps of meat Mrs. Martyne, hearing the talk, came to the back steps.

“Why, Buddy!” she exclaimed. “Whatever are you doing out of school and with a dog? Where did you get that dog?”

“He’s my dog!” said Buddy. “I took him away from a Gypsy and I’m going to keep him—can’t I?” he asked.

“Keep a Gypsy dog? No, certainly not!” exclaimed Mrs. Martyne. “Make him go away, Buddy and then hurry back to school! Keep a Gypsy dog? Certainly not!”