Chapter 4

The news was unfortunate and traveled around quickly. Dogs from neighboring homes who remembered Lady from long-forgotten walks and meetings at the park peeked through the fence weepingly when they passed by with their masters. They regarded her with pity.

"It should never have happened to a dog." said each one.

Trusty hurt about it more than his sagged eyes revealed. He'd heard what happened from Jock, but Jock told him things far more terrible than what everyone else knew, or what he told Lady that night.

Jim Dear and Darling, Jock said, visit frequently nowadays. He likes to listen, to eavesdrop when they talk. It's a sound way to get whiff of what the buzz is around town. Other dogs might say he's a bit barefaced. But, unlike dogs, humans never give him any regard.

"At first, I thought it was only their usual tittle-tattle."

But this once he rather wished that someone kicked him out the room before overhearing what has been said. He'd heard concerning names being spoken, places far off-yonder being mentioned. He'd heard rumors that were only rumors, but those that were indeed facts frightened him the most.

"Ach! Cursed be me shameless stickybeakin' and them stinkin' ears! Why am I such a bloomin' beagle? Wish I didn't hear what I heard!"

But he heard clear as flowing water and so did Trusty. The news was pain to him greater than any broken leg. They all but made him snivel.

"Poor miss Lady." he whined.

"And that's not everything." continued the message-bearer greatly downcast. "Heard Jim Dear mentioning Jersey."

"Jersey?" Trusty's head bounced back. "Why, but that's awfully far! She has nobody there."

"Cats." he spat scornfully. "Only them confounded cats."

Both dogs trembled as at the sudden brush of cold wind over their coats.

"And it's nothing we can do." Jock shook his head forlorn. "All we can do is hope she'll do all right."

"I would give one of my fours!" Trusty barked loudly. Rarely he was this solemn. "Or even my great nose! I really would!"

"I know you would, man." said Jock. "But not even yer braw nose could track down a miracle now. My family can do nothing either. And besides, remember she'd declined both our offers."

Trusty flopped to his paws and crumpled his face. "Can't begin to picture how she must be feeling."

"The lassie's bad enough. But you should have seen Darling earlier." Jock drooped on the grass into a deep sigh. "She's been crying. Likely she hasn't slept a wink the past few days."

"Hmm." Trusty muttered, and he stood silent for a moment that allowed him to sneeze. "Suppose the baby's condition-?"

Jock nodded a response that made Trusty stop, jerk his ears and gulp heavily.

"What a godawful matter." his voice shuddered.

"Aye," Jock agreed with a sorrowful bow. "'tis a dowie day for all of us."

They had been talking in Trusty's garden for most of that morning. It was woe after woe, bad news after bad news. It was an ugly situation what has been happening. A very nettling one for the two friends who would have done anything to help Lady. But, as the things appeared, they were both completely hobbled by the obstacle that was dog's limit.

The matters didn't improve when, a minute later, out the little door of Lady's home came Lady herself, more woebegone than both of them.

What heartbreaking sight, they thought. It has been so for many days. Where was the winsome smile? Or the kind voice? Or the cheery sprint and leap? They all vanished from her manner as though they were never there before.

Her sad expression sunk deep their ships. She lay wretched at the foot of the porch with a little tennis ball that long yearned to be tossed.

"She doesn't know about this, does she?" breathed Trusty.

"Nay." said Jock. "She knows only of the baby and Jim Dear. And we-a better leave it that way. There's no telling what she might do if she finds out now."

Trusty was a bit uncertain. "But what might she do exactly?"

"Anything can happen!" Jock was undoubtful. "She could get ill."

"Get ill?" the idea sent shivers across all of Trusty's creases.

"Or worse; run away!"

"Not miss Lady!" He gasped hoarsely.

"Hate to be lyin', 'specially to someone who's never lied to us before," he eyed Lady with regret, "but we mustn't let on that we know. It would be too much for her."

"Hum." Trusty mumbled. "With the baby being sick, that alone must be too much."

But soon came the Tramp and both pairs of eyes then surveilled him instead.

"What about him?" asked Trusty. "Does he know?"

Jock shook his head. "Likely not." he glared sharply as to penetrate all bushes. "That grin of a troublemaker doesn't belong on someone who'd know."

"Then," Trusty leaned closer, "shouldn't we let him in on the matter?"

Jock scoffed. He began to munch a rose's petals rather languidly.

"I fancy it's the right thing to do." he insisted, though a little hesitant. "It concerns him just as much."

"What ya' haverin' about, man?" Jock pointed his glare at Trusty. "I've a-nothing to tell him." he said sternly. And he held on that he paid the Tramp no interest, though he squinted at him in such odd manner as if he sought to lip-read what he was telling Lady. "But I'll tell 'im a thing or two if he tempts her into more of his tomfooleries."

Trusty cocked a displeased eye toward Jock. Flashed though the glance was, as Jock hadn't the time to fear its wraith.

"Well," Jock got up, "I doubt it would make much difference anyway, or that it would matter to him at all." he turned around apparently to leave. The army of roses rustled behind him. "Tell him yerself if you really want to, but don't come whinin' at me if he doesn't take ye' serious."

Trusty watched quiet as the Scottie walked away, still a little mazed by his needless behavior. He did not fully understand this neighborly dislike that his friend held toward the Tramp. He thought it was quite unjustified. After all, if it was only a matter of being encouraged to misbehave, Lady could have always turned him down. But Jock, naturally, doesn't approve of dogs larger than himself. He resents bigness. Except that of Trusty's. Perhaps, sooner or later, he would have searched for flaws to gnaw on in the Tramp no matter how well-bred he would have been, or no matter how many babies he would have saved.

Trusty, however, was considerably more lenient. The Tramp might have made Lady forget her old friends, but never she appeared unhappy when he was around. That heartened Trusty quite a bit, for he wished nothing but the best for someone who'd he often consider as a daughter. The only true reason for the mild disfavor he held against the Tramp was that he never bothered to thank them for having his life saved. It was his constant reminder each time his leg ached, and when the leg ached, his modest heart did too. But he did not put the blame entirely on the Tramp. It's the fault, he said, of those who raised him that way.

Now he was alone with the rose eaten only halfway, and for a second he looked around and wondered why he wasn't following Jock along. To his left, making his way out the garden was a lifelong comrade, a friend whom he respected deeply, him and equally his opinions. He mustn't desert him. But a step took forward and, to his right, there played the Tramp, past the bushes and the fence, in a fashion so bizarre, he found himself fascinated by his game and forgetting of the Scottie. Jock's opinions were to be respected, but never he'd seen a dog playing ball by himself.

"By golly, grandpappy," said a marveled Trusty, only the rose listened him say, "what do you suppose he's doing?" He was so absorbed that he didn't realize when Lady went back inside.

But, to his left that now was behind, Jock did not leave. He had stopped and now waited by the sidewalk, watching Trusty intensely as though he tried to test him on a trial of loyalty. Yet big was the shock when Trusty failed it. He could only but gawk stupidly at his attempt to go through the fence.

He felt somewhat let down then. Cutting was the scowl he shot him with. "Faithful Bess, Old Reliable, ach! Yer nephew just did me dirty!" he spat.

But not even Jock was such a fuddy-duddy. His gulp was dry, his sigh tired, but the look in his eyes was that of an understanding friend. Trusty must have betrayed him, but he only meant well.

So Jock readied his paws and fastened his pride, and on a dogtrot he turned back.

Quiet as the summer wind, but clumsy as a drunk trespasser, Trusty found himself next yard where the Tramp ran around and played like a hare in the open field. The leaves whooshed and swished in his wake, and his snarls and growls, though playful, sounded so violent as though he was fighting three of his kind at once. Such youthfulness startled Trusty a shade.

"Excuse me!" his gruff voice called.

Yet too meek of a call it seemed. The noise and racket around him ate it whole.

"Excuse me," he called louder, "mister- err, Tramp!"

Now the call reached. The Tramp heard. His sprint came to an abrupt halt that almost made him trip. He swerved curiously, the tennis ball stuck between his teeth. Yet, behind it, the friendliest of smiles arose.

"Hope I didn't- uhh, interrupt anything." added Trusty humbly.

"Well!" said the Tramp. In a swift lope he was next to Trusty. "Trusty, was it? How goes it?"

"You know," Trusty was considerably shy, "I was in my garden admiring my old master's roses, and couldn't help but wonder- uhh, wonder what you were doing earlier."

The Tramp eyed him a little surprised by the question. "Playin'." he said a moment later. "What? You folks don't play?"

"Oh, no, we do play. We do sometimes." Trusty assured him. "But- uhh, alone?" he leaned his head, his long ears dangled.

"Nobody else around here." the Tramp chuckled. "The man's not up for any games lately, and the pigeon's too glum 'cause of that kid." his voice slowly saddened, "I tell her humans go sick all the time, but she ain't listenin'."

"Oh," Trusty nodded, "I, too, heard of the baby. Truly unfortunate-."

"By the way," the Tramp suddenly got up, his tongue wagged livelily, "never got around t' give ya' my thanks! You really did me a solid back there."

There it was. At last, Trusty's recognition. It came so unexpected that he stuttered most words. "Oh!" he laughed gruffly "Why, no problem at all!" Behind his black collar lay warm the proudest his veteran heart was.

"Well, few would've risked a good leg for a mutt." said the Tramp, and he began to scratch the neck that, to Trusty's surprise, still wore no collar. "You know, I've known a tracker like you once."

"Oh, did you now?" said Trusty intrigued. "And who is that, if I may?"

"A badge. One o' those service Rovers. A two-bit John Hop from across the swan lake."

Trusty knit his brow, wondering if said person is a common acquaintance. He knew most trackers around town.

"He's a good guy though. Has a heart of gold. He shared me his ration lots a' times when I ran short on chow." he added. "But mind your crackin' schnozzle, his was conked up pretty badly." the old memory pulled a giggle out of him.

Trusty, however, still lost in wonder at trackers across the lake he might've known a clue about.

"Track us down some breakfast, I tell him." yet the Tramp tacked on like it all was happening before his very eyes. "But the only thing he could track was that Poodle gal a few blocks away." his mustache rustled over a wistful grin. "Oh, but it's breakfast, he tells me. Only that this breakfast makes you hungrier the more ya' have it." and he rolled on the grass like nothing was more enjoyable. "The old in-out, he called it." laughed the Tramp. "I tell you, big boy, ten times the rains have come and gone before it came to me what he meant."

Then he stopped and looked up at Trusty who seemed, to the Tramp, lost someplace along the storyline. There was a brief silence between them that Trusty filled with squiggly mutters of what sounded as names.

The Tramp lolled his tongue. "Come to think of it," he snapped, the bloodhound jumped. "Where's the little fidget?"

"Come again?" he said confused.

But then, from behind a bush, out popped the Scottie, as at response to Trusty's perplexity.

"Uh-oh!" said the Tramp. "If I'd known I'd have guests, I would have dug up some bones."

"Aye, good morning, laddie." greeted Jock friendly, to Trusty unusually so. "Having a natter between neighbors, I take?" he chuckled. Then he shifted closer to Trusty and whispered to his ear. "Ya' haven't told him yet, have ya'?"

"I was about to," revealed Trusty, "but I slipped."

Meanwhile, a mutter surfaced under Trusty's other ear. "Tell me what?"

Both dogs sprang back.

"Oh, come on, friends," the Tramp said, "don't be so tight-lipped. What y'all mean to tell me?"

Jock came forward rather wavery. "Well, laddie," he began unwilling, "not to make a wreck out of your day now, but I believe you might want to know on some things."

"On what things?" the Tramp inquired.

"On- uhh," the Scottie swithered, "how do I put it-."

"On the matters that have been happening in your home recently." Trusty took charge.

"Matters?" said he clueless. "Aside from the pigeon's little stunt the other day?" he tittered.

Jock and Trusty exchanged looks.

"What stunt?" they asked.

"You fellas don't know?" the Tramp was surprised. A quick, yet cautious look scanned his surroundings. "All right, but you didn't hear it from me."

Both pairs of ears tensed in terrible suspense.

"Now, y'all know what a quack is, yeah?" he quizzed them. "That strange feller with the black bag."

Trusty looked at Jock and Jock made a funny face. "You mean to say a doctor." said the Scottie.

"Uh-huh." he nodded. "Well, he came around the other day to look at the little guy. But I have a sneaky suspicion the pigeon didn't know who he was." he stalled and eyed his surroundings one more time. "'Cause she took him for one of them dog biscuits instead. She snatched on the man's ankle like nothing seemed tastier."

Trusty drew in his breath. "Miss Lady bit someone?"

Jock stared stupefied.

"But miss Lady wouldn't even hurt a flea." he balked at such revelation.

"It's 'cos he hurt the baby," clarified the Tramp, "or so she told me."

"Wouldn't have expected it in a million years." Jock spread himself on the leaves incredulous. "Certainly not from the lass'."

"I'm still a little shocked myself." he giggled. "The shark inside the goldfish, eh?"

Trusty cleared his throat and wobbled his jaw. He wanted to say something but an amalgam of shouts and yells hindered his attempt. They came from inside the house. All three dogs veered their heads and angled their ears.

"Say, what ever got into them again?" the Tramp muttered. "Lately it seems that's all they do."

"Again?" Trusty glanced at Jock then eyed the Tramp with disguised suspicion. "And what else have you noticed? About the humans, I mean."

"What else?" in a steady move he was rubbing an ear. "Now that I think about it, the man is fairly odd nowadays."

"How - odd?" pushed Jock.

"Well, he's all glum and blue. it's like someone stole his cookie." the Tramp continued and now he was a little put out. "He was okay some days ago, but, shucks, now all he does is play that dingus."

The same worrying yells from earlier came again and now they mingled with the terrific sound of a door slamming. Jock and Trusty both cocked their heads again. The Tramp on he spoke his achings.

"Eh, but he's all right." he rounded off with a fit of indifference that was keener to him. "But then Darling-" yet grief struck him off guard, "well, the woman - she's been giving me the go-by lately." he confessed. "You know, fellas, humans - they sort of leave me cold. Ain't much big deal out of them except the scratchin' when you fake a trick, or when the old breadbasket's callin'." his grin was faint, if not a little forced. "But Darling- well, no treat or pat's quite like Darling's. And when you visit her upstairs and she sings to that little trouble in the pram-." he stopped, chuckled, and scratched again. "Aw, you know where I'm gettin' at."

"Aye." smiled Jock. "No song is quite like a mother's lullaby."

"But now's all yellin' and fightin' and the pigeon who worries too much over someone who's not even her own." the Tramp paused and caught his breath. "Hey, cannot a dog retire in peace?" he laughed.

His guests weren't sharing his chirpiness.

"But, you know, even when it's quiet it seems all wrong." he resumed, and now to the others he sounded surprisingly upset. "You'd expect two humans sharin' the same pad to at least tip their hats to each other once a while. 'Cept it's all a sad pass-over instead, like- well, it's like they're two strangers on an evening stroll-."

The Tramp trailed off. In his mind that word rang a bell. He was suddenly remembering the time Lady spoke to him in the hall when she said the same about the humans. But tardy he'd found out his bloomer, for he took her for a fool instead, and now he was sorry. With fresh guilt and a long face he gazed at Jock and Trusty, who merely flickered their eyes.

"Oh, boys, I really went and done it." he said. "I've a funny feeling this is what Pidge was trying to tell me. But guess who made the monkey out of her?"

The two stared at him with hesitation. Jock broke the silence.

"Well, laddie, I've heard my family talk with Darling and Jim Dear about this, and the lassie- well, she really only knows about the baby."

The Tramp rose on his rear and now his attention was all towards the Scottie.

"But, worse luck," he went, "there's more to it than what she knows."

"And," Trusty took over, "we agreed, by all means, not to tell miss Lady one word." his great head subsided. "Poor miss Lady already suffers enough-."

"So we came here to tell ye'," Jock added, "but you mustn't tell-."

"Aw, shucks, out with it, fellas. What's it all about?" interrupted the Tramp, "All this to and fro - do I look like I haven't taken bad news before?" his chuckle held a lull that expressed his mettle. "My old woman left me 'cross the tracks when I barely had any teeth. How bad can it be? Spit it out."

And a spit-it-out they did.

Every woe Jock's ears regretfully heard that were passed down to Trusty now were passed down to him in the rightest of details. The rumors and the facts, the names and the places.

But for someone who Jock had looked down his nose at, now there was pity and kind-heartedness, as inside the Tramp slowly collapsed the fortress-like spirit that was thought to stand all hardships.

"Tie me down and bob my bottom," the Tramp plonked himself over the carpet of leaves, "goofy me for askin'. And the pigeon told me autumn's a rough trip, but," he found it hard to speak, "but this? Thissa' merry-go-round. And just when I started to like it in here."

"I'm sorry, laddie." sighed Jock. "Honestly, wasn't expecting this to-a stir you that much. Wish it was all just a foul joke."

"Well, I'd have simply binned off and moved in on another family," said the Tramp, "but I like Darling and Jim Dear."

As with an early sense of yearning and grief in his look, he gazed at the little door Lady went through earlier.

"And the little pigeon - doggone it - that's a face I'll miss forever."

"You're fond of miss Lady, aren't you?" Trusty's bass rang with sadness.

The Tramp held off. His look was still glued on the little door.

"Yeah, but-" his gaiety seemed to have completely vanished, "but, I guess it doesn't matter anymore, does it?" In dim hope he looked back at them. "Nothing at all that can be done?"

Jock shook his head dejected. Trusty stepped forward.

"There is something," he said, "although it is more of a favor I'd like to ask of you."

Now all eyes were on Trusty.

"Well, miss Lady - though I can't condemn her - she doesn't appear to be wanting to see neither of us. But, if you can find it possible, before that hateful day comes, to make her happy or, at least, smile again one last time, it would mean very much. As it seems, you are the only person she speaks to at all now."

The Tramp smiled a touch. "Yeah. She's gloomy, alright. Bet you couldn't pull a grin out of her now even with a tickle."

With a long stretch he rose on his all-fours and shook his coat heartily.

"Well, so be it. I'll keep my mouth zipped." he said. "And I'll see to it that she departs from us laughing."