rear hall, “come here. I have something to show you.” Fortunately, there was no sign of the cook. At the sound of footsteps, the puppy wakened and began to wriggle in Abigail’s arms, then gave out a sharp yip, as if greeting Charlotte.
Abigail felt her pulse accelerate as she waited for her sister’s reaction. Would Charlotte think she was crazy, bringing a bedraggled puppy to her? After all, it had been many years since she had begged for one.
Charlotte’s response was everything Abigail had hoped for. “A dog.” She clasped her hands with childlike wonder, and a smile lit her face. “What on earth are you doing with a dog?” The hesitation in her voice told Abigail she was afraid to raise her expectations only to have them dashed.
“I couldn’t bear to think of him being drowned,” Abigail said when she’d explained what the soldiers were doing. “Besides, I hoped you’d enjoy his company. I told Ethan he was a belated Christmas gift.” When tears filled Charlotte’s eyes, Abigail wrinkled her nose and added, “A smelly gift.” Carefully, she transferred the puppy to her sister, smiling at the way Charlotte held him at arm’s length, then relented and let the little creature lick her face.
“Oh, Abigail, he’s darling. Of course I’ll keep him.” Charlotte stroked the puppy’s head, grimacing when she noticed that her fingers were covered with dried mud. “But why does he smell so awful?”
“I found him rolling in a mud puddle.”
“Oh, my. Well, a bit of soap and water will take care of that.” Charlotte carried the puppy into the kitchen and nodded when Abigail reached for a kettle of water. “Even though it’s summer, we should probably heat it a bit.” Smiling at the wriggling ball of fur, she crooned, “First a bath, then we’ll get you something to eat.”
Abigail set the kettle on the flame and looked around for a pan to use as a bathtub. While it was larger than she would have liked, the washtub would have to do. No matter how cute he was, the dog was not going into a cooking pot.
She glanced at her sister as she dragged the tub into the center of the room. Charlotte beamed with happiness, validating Abigail’s decision to save the puppy.
Charlotte looked down at her new pet. He’d started to squirm, and the contented yips turned to whimpers. “This little one needs a name. What do you think, Abigail? What shall I call him?”
Another whimper was followed by the sound of liquid hitting the floor. “Oh no!” Charlotte’s pleasure turned to a cry of dismay and she held the dog away from her, trying to keep her previously immaculate cashmere skirt from being spattered.
“Puppies.” Abigail grabbed a rag. “I’ll clean up the puddle.”
When the floor was once more dry, Charlotte studied the dog. “Mud puddles. Other kinds of puddles.” She tipped her head to one side, considering. “That’s it,” she said, a smile of satisfaction lighting her face. “His name is Puddles.”
“Perfect.” If Abigail knew anything about dogs, this wouldn’t be the last puddle the pup would leave in the house. She poured the now warm water into the tub and beckoned to Charlotte to give Puddles to her. “You might want to stand back,” she cautioned. Unlike yesterday when Charlotte had been wearing a washable morning dress, today she had donned an elaborately trimmed gown. Though similar to the fashions Abigail had seen in Godey’s Lady’s Book , the lace trim and handmade buttons told her this was one of her sister’s designs. Charlotte was a talented dressmaker. No question of that. The problem was, this particular gown was not suitable for bathing a dog.
As Abigail had expected, the puppy protested. Muddy water was fine. After all, that was his idea, but a bath was something else. As Abigail soaped his fur, Puddles barked and yipped, then began to howl, all the while struggling to escape from her grip.
“Won’t Mrs. Channing be surprised when she sees him?”
Abigail felt her pulse accelerate as she waited for her sister’s reaction. Would Charlotte think she was crazy, bringing a bedraggled puppy to her? After all, it had been many years since she had begged for one.
Charlotte’s response was everything Abigail had hoped for. “A dog.” She clasped her hands with childlike wonder, and a smile lit her face. “What on earth are you doing with a dog?” The hesitation in her voice told Abigail she was afraid to raise her expectations only to have them dashed.
“I couldn’t bear to think of him being drowned,” Abigail said when she’d explained what the soldiers were doing. “Besides, I hoped you’d enjoy his company. I told Ethan he was a belated Christmas gift.” When tears filled Charlotte’s eyes, Abigail wrinkled her nose and added, “A smelly gift.” Carefully, she transferred the puppy to her sister, smiling at the way Charlotte held him at arm’s length, then relented and let the little creature lick her face.
“Oh, Abigail, he’s darling. Of course I’ll keep him.” Charlotte stroked the puppy’s head, grimacing when she noticed that her fingers were covered with dried mud. “But why does he smell so awful?”
“I found him rolling in a mud puddle.”
“Oh, my. Well, a bit of soap and water will take care of that.” Charlotte carried the puppy into the kitchen and nodded when Abigail reached for a kettle of water. “Even though it’s summer, we should probably heat it a bit.” Smiling at the wriggling ball of fur, she crooned, “First a bath, then we’ll get you something to eat.”
Abigail set the kettle on the flame and looked around for a pan to use as a bathtub. While it was larger than she would have liked, the washtub would have to do. No matter how cute he was, the dog was not going into a cooking pot.
She glanced at her sister as she dragged the tub into the center of the room. Charlotte beamed with happiness, validating Abigail’s decision to save the puppy.
Charlotte looked down at her new pet. He’d started to squirm, and the contented yips turned to whimpers. “This little one needs a name. What do you think, Abigail? What shall I call him?”
Another whimper was followed by the sound of liquid hitting the floor. “Oh no!” Charlotte’s pleasure turned to a cry of dismay and she held the dog away from her, trying to keep her previously immaculate cashmere skirt from being spattered.
“Puppies.” Abigail grabbed a rag. “I’ll clean up the puddle.”
When the floor was once more dry, Charlotte studied the dog. “Mud puddles. Other kinds of puddles.” She tipped her head to one side, considering. “That’s it,” she said, a smile of satisfaction lighting her face. “His name is Puddles.”
“Perfect.” If Abigail knew anything about dogs, this wouldn’t be the last puddle the pup would leave in the house. She poured the now warm water into the tub and beckoned to Charlotte to give Puddles to her. “You might want to stand back,” she cautioned. Unlike yesterday when Charlotte had been wearing a washable morning dress, today she had donned an elaborately trimmed gown. Though similar to the fashions Abigail had seen in Godey’s Lady’s Book , the lace trim and handmade buttons told her this was one of her sister’s designs. Charlotte was a talented dressmaker. No question of that. The problem was, this particular gown was not suitable for bathing a dog.
As Abigail had expected, the puppy protested. Muddy water was fine. After all, that was his idea, but a bath was something else. As Abigail soaped his fur, Puddles barked and yipped, then began to howl, all the while struggling to escape from her grip.
“Won’t Mrs. Channing be surprised when she sees him?”
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