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Stories, Dreams and Allegories. Schreiner, Olive, 1855–1920.
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page: 119


Towser sat alone in a wood. He leaned his head on a stone at his side. He was thinking; you could see that by his big, round eyes.

“I made somebody happy, that’s a great comfort,” said he (for all that there were tears running down his nose). “I must be happy; I must think I once made somebody happy ”—here his little chest swelled out immensely. “It doesn’t matter if you’re not loved if only you’ve made somebody happy. Yes, I won’t want to be loved any more, I’ll just try to page: 120 help people, and then I’ll be happy too. You mustn’t want to be loved; just to be good.”

So he took his head off the stone and went trotting away through the wood. Presently he saw a country boy before him carrying a flitch of bacon; not long after from the bushes at the path‐side burst a gipsy‐looking fellow.

After a minute, the rough fellow said to the boy, “Give me your bacon.”

Said the boy, “No.”

The man said, “I can make you; there is nobody near.”

He took hold of the bacon; the boy began to struggle. He knelt upon the boy. Then every hair upon Towser’s little body stood on end, and his tail was stiffened out. He forgot he was Towser, he forgot he wanted to be loved, he forgot everything, and flew at the trousers of the gipsy man. Then the gipsy man thought there was someone coming, ran away, and left the boy and the bacon.

Towser stood in the middle of the path barking furiously. He was in great excitement.

Slowly the country fellow got up; his face was purple with rage. He cut a little stick from the bush growing by; it wasn’t thicker than his finger; Towser’s backbone was not thicker either.

“So, you stand here barking at me, do you?” said the country fellow. “Why don’t you go after page: 121 your master? You want to bite me! do you? do you? do you?”

Towser thought his little backbone would be broken, and when the stick hit his little skull it was terribly sore. The country fellow held him fast with one hand; he was so small he wasn’t much to hold, and beat him on his little fore‐feet, and in his eye; then he took up his bacon, and walked away.

Towser went into the brushwood close by, and sat down on his tail and lifted his nose to the sky. The one eye was shut up, but the other was wide open, and the water running out of it.

If he ever went home and became a comfortable, respectable dog, I don’t know; the last I saw of him he was sitting there in that wood.

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