"So-So"
by
“Be sure, my child,” said the widow to her little daughter, “that you always do just as you are told.”
“Very well, Mother.”
“Or at any rate do what will do just as well,” said the small house-dog as he lay blinking at the fire.
“You darling!” cried little Joan, and she sat down on the hearth and hugged him. But he got up and shook himself, and moved three turns nearer the oven, to be out of the way; for though her arms were soft she had kept her doll in them, and that was made of wood, which hurts.
“What a dear, kind house-dog you are!” said little Joan, and she meant what she said, for it does feel nice to have the sharp edges of one’s duty a little softened off for one.
He was no particular kind of a dog, but he was very smooth to stroke, and had a nice way of blinking with his eyes, which it was soothing to see. There had been a difficulty about his name. The name of the house-dog before him was Faithful, and well it became him, as his tombstone testified. The one before that was called Wolf. He was very wild, and ended his days on the gallows, for worrying sheep. The little house-dog never chased anything, to the widow’s knowledge. There was no reason whatever for giving him a bad name, and she thought of several good ones, such as Faithful, and Trusty, and Keeper, which are fine old-fashioned titles, but none of these seemed quite perfectly to suit him. So he was called So-so; and a very nice soft name it is.
The widow was only a poor woman, though she contrived by her industry to keep a decent home together, and to get now one and now another little comfort for herself and her child.
One day she was going out on business, and she called her little daughter and said to her, “I am going out for two hours. You are too young to protect yourself and the house, and So-so is not as strong as Faithful was. But when I go, shut the house-door and bolt the big wooden bar, and be sure that you do not open it for any reason whatever till I return. If strangers come, So-so may bark, which he can do as well as a bigger dog. Then they will go away. With this summer’s savings I have bought a quilted petticoat for you and a duffle cloak for myself against the winter, and if I get the work I am going after to-day, I shall buy enough wool to knit warm stockings for us both. So be patient till I return, and then we will have the plumcake that is in the cupboard for tea.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“Good-bye, my child. Be sure and do just as I have told you,” said the widow.
“Very well, Mother.”
Little Joan laid down her doll, and shut the house-door, and fastened the big bolt. It was very heavy, and the kitchen looked gloomy when she had done it.
“I wish Mother had taken us all three with her, and had locked the house and put the key in her big pocket, as she has done before,” said little Joan, as she got into the rocking-chair, to put her doll to sleep.
“Yes, it would have done just as well,” So-so replied, as he stretched himself on the hearth.
By-and-bye Joan grew tired of hushabying the doll, who looked none the sleepier for it, and she took the three-legged stool and sat down in front of the clock to watch the hands. After awhile she drew a deep sigh.
“There are sixty seconds in every single minute, So-so,” said she.
“So I have heard,” said So-so. He was snuffing in the back place, which was not usually allowed.
“And sixty whole minutes in every hour, So-so.”
“You don’t say so!” growled So-so. He had not found a bit, and the cake was on the top shelf. There was not so much as a spilt crumb, though he snuffed in every corner of the kitchen till he stood snuffing under the house-door.