BUNTY.

Otago Witness, Issue 2892, 11 August 1909, Page 83

BUNTY.

By Maegueritx.

Jack was right. Elsie did not keep her resolution for -lcng. It was not many weeks after the penguin episode that she lost her heart to an orphan lamb. ".I thought you were not going to have any mor-s pets," said Jack teasingly, as Elsie, with the . little creature in her lap, was - trying her best to pour spoonfuls of •warm milk down its throat. '.'I meant birds," said Elsie after a pause. The next morning, when Elsie" came to feed the lamb, he viewed her auspiciously f«• a. minute or two, then, coming forward very •timidly, he sniffed her milk-stained skirt. That seemed to satisfy him. He sucked Elsie's fingers eagerly, and wriggled his tail ■with joy. A few days later Bunty was amusing himeeif by nibbling luxuriant cocksfoot on the side of the house, wher a loud motherly baa. roused him with a start. He was alert at once, and instinctively gave an answering bleat. The old sheep responded, and Bunty answered ag<sdn in his tiny. quavering 1 tones. He seemed lost in wonderment for a time, as if trying to recollect when he had heard that voice before. And then memory came back. His first mother used to call him in that way before she was bogged in the slip. But he could hardly remember what had happened {.hen. it was so long ago. He only knew that he had bleated and bleated till he was hoarse, and that his mother had refused to answer. But mow he felt sure it was her voice calling him, an 9he must obey. Elsie discovered him later in one of the neir p&ddocks -with Jack's pet ewe Beib. j The two looked quite happy together, and Bunty was not inclined to let himself, be caught. Elsie captured him after a little persuasion, and carried him back to the house. Beth made a great fuss as soon as the lamb was taken from her, and ran up and down the fence, bleaJing anxiously. After this Bunty was continually Tunning away to his new friend, and kept Elsie j busy carrying him back to his proper do- j main. Two days later Beth was the proud mother of twins. Elsie rejoiced at the news. Now she would be content surely, and take I no" more notice of Bunty. But Beth sur- j prised everyone by her fidelity to her first ! love. She was still as eager to adopt him j «s ever. j "Beth, you're not going to have my lamb. ' j 'Elsie told the old sheep one day. "You're j v«ry greedy; you've got two lambs and Iv» I

f only got one." But by-and-bye Beth had her way. One morning Bunty stayed about the house for a long while -without making any attempt to run away Elsie was delighted to think he was settling down at last. It was discovered very soon, however, that he had kept himself busy by eating the | violets, nibbling off the rose-buds and ten- ! der shoots from some choice plants. There was nothing for it after that but to be banished to Beth's paddock. | Beth was very proud of her three lambs. ; She held her head very high, and never j associated with the other 3h«ep. At the i roost, they had only two lambs, but she possessed three. El9ie still tried to give her pet four or five meals a day. but Bunty was seldom hungry. She siways brought him new milk, too; she had tiied skim once, and Bunty had said, "No, thank you," very decidedly. It was never proved "that Beth fed him ; but what he lived on if she did not was a mystery. Still, Bunty did not forget his benefactor. His affections were divided eaually between l>ig motherly Beth and the little girl. Elsie would let him follow her inu> the enclosure round the house sometimes, and that always pleased Bunty immensely. He could have a nibble iat his favourite rose-bushes, or perhaps slip away into the vegetable garden for a moment, and sample the young cabbages and peas. One day, -as a special treat, Elsie let him come fn&ide'. How delighted Bunty was, to be sure. He galloped up and down the passage with hops and leaps. He butted Elsie playfully again and again, making the children scream with laughter. He loved to hear the clatter of hi* hoofs on tha hard floor, and leapt and frolicked till he- had to stop from exhaustion. Elsie put her arms, lovingly round -his neck, while he puffed and psnted wi'ih his pretty little mouth wide open. "Dear old Bunty bay. why you're quite tired." she said, imprinting kisses on his woolly brow. Elsie was away from home one day, and Jack was left with strict injunctions to rern«mber tc feed Bunty. At feeding time Bunty heard a new voice calling him; he looked up out of curiosity, bsing quite | certain in his little mind that he was not ! going to obey it. Jack hurried up the hill i side and pet the bowl down before him. Bunty would not even deign to smell it. ! but skipped away to join the twins. Jack tried again in a "couple of hours', time, but he took the precaution this time to slip on one of Elsie's dresses. Bunty looked suspicious, but after sniffing the dress once or Iwice, he condescended to taste the milk. He sniffed the dress again, and then put his milky nose on Jack's hand. Something i was wrong; Bunty decided that it was safer I not to drink it, and danced away. "I tried to feed him, Elsie." said Jack on her return -that evening, "but the little beggar wouldn't take anything. He says he has enough with two mothers, and doesn't want three." "Poor Bunty. he'll be so hungry. You warm some milk. Jsck, while I pxit on my old dress. I don't think he'll like this one." Bath had taken -the lambs to the highest knob in the paddock to camp, and was surprised to see tha children appear at that time of night. Bunty ran forward eagerly when Elsie called, and drank part of his milk. As the evening was warm, the children stayed awhile to watch the lambs. It was the usual thing for Bunty and his companions to have a. frolic before going to bed. Bunty began by showing off some of liis clever feats. The twins were Tather shy, but the} could not resist joining in the game after a while. No wonder Beth was proud of ber orphan lamb. Beside him the twins looked clumsy and awkward. Their leaps seemed quite ungainly to his graceful movetras'ils. When Beth laid down, Bunty followed suit, taking care to secure the warmest place, right against her woolly back. , . The colours in the west had faced long a°o and the gloom was quickly deepening into darkness, but still .Elsie rt-as lcth to "I'd like to stay up here all night," she said: "it's so nice." "There's room," laughed Jack; you could sleep on top." . . „ "They do look comfy." said Elsie, as if wishing Jack's suggestion were feasible. "But xf we stay long encugk we m'.ght sea gome fairies now." . "Yes, if ye stay long enough, but I don t intend to stay till then." As Bunty grew older, his fondness for the dainties in the enclosure led him into bad habits. He was continually on the lookout for open gates, and would slip into tho garden before anyone was aware. Or. v he fancied a meal off lettuces ard cabbages wben the gate was nc open, he simply got through the fence H , wrou -sht.5 ht .. ha nn vv ° r c .,^ the Gardens for many weeks, s.ncl tn-n ca..ie tho "final verdict. "Bu- ly must be -=oid Sin'-e the verdict bad 1 een given, he was as reckless ant" raifliKvons as ever nov. could he know that be was breakup >''- little mistress's heart. . Ah. Elsie, joy aitd sorrow -c hind in hand; you ?a.ni i v take of tl'« one without a sip of the ether now "it wffihe day before tie sale. ai.cS Buirtv had been caught in the *ct of pul ling off great bunches of P reen jn-apss. Els:e led him gVavely out to the paddock and ttt down herself face downwards on the *ras« . m a nassion of tears. She bad often done it before? in pretence, and had. always jumped i,o Whing at Bunty's .nxietj to comfor. her Bunty pawod gently at his dress. fumbled «rth her hair, and tried to push his no=e into her face, as he hao. <3one £3 r"nv times before, but «o peals of merry aughter rewarded him. This time, the n.ore he showed his commiseration, the more she S °ThTfollowing day was full «t 88 f« Bunty First, he was put in the >axd M.h to ti-klo him again. Then a ereat bue icWt I'rat brand signineo ping through open gates had stood him :n

gocd steal. A slieep that could be relied upon to lepd the flocks from yard to yard 1 was a treasure, far too valuable to lose. Little did Bunty think what a slight thing held his life in the balance. To refuse to go through those open gates once might have Eealed his death warrant. But Bunty did not refuse. It was fortunate for him that his sheep's nature impelled him to continue his old habit. "Saw Bunty's ghost to-day, Elsie," said' Jack on his return from a visit to the works some time later. Elsie had <a vision of a white carcase somewhere in the vicinity of the freezing chambers. "Jack, you horrid boy! I won't listen." After a little more banter Jack convinced her that Bunty was still very much alive. Elsie clapped her hands and danced round the room, and finally gave Jack a tremendous hug. "Take me with you next time you go. "jack," she coaxed. "I "dc want to see Bunty again." i "