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But not a man, woman, or child there gave vent to his or her feelings in laughter. They smiled, they commented in a soft tone, they looked happy; nay, they were happy, but they did not laugh! Once only did they give way a little, and that was when an aspiring youth, after having nearly leaped down his own throat, walked round the circle on his hands. Even Tittles danced that day!
Upon the whole Tittles was the cause of much noise, no little confusion, and great amusement at that celebrated wedding. Thus did Fred Temple and his friends spend their last day in Norway. At midnight they set sail for Old England. On rising next morning they found themselves far out among the islands of the coast.
A slight roll of the schooner, caused by the entrance of a wave through an opening in the islands, toppled this can over and emptied its contents on the sleeper's face. He leaped up with a roar, of course. Tittles jumped up with a yelp, while Grant and Temple turned round with a growl at having been awakened, and went off to sleep again. But sleep was driven away from the eyes of Sam Sorrel.
Sam Sorrel raised his head, and began to look less yellow and more cheerful. Tittles began to wag the stump of his miserable tail, and, in short, every one began to look and to feel happy. Thus did the Snowflake approach the coast of Norway. Now, it is by no means an uncommon occurrence in this world that a calm should follow close on the heels of a storm.
Poor Sam groaned and looked down at his dog, which sat trembling on the deck between his feet, gazing up in its master's face sadly at least so it is to be supposed; but the face of Tittles, as well as the expression thereof, was invisible owing to hair. "Is there an opening, Captain?" inquired Fred in a low, serious tone. "Oo ay, no fear o' that," replied the Captain.
Tittles was extremely sensitive in regard to this, and could not bear to have his miserable projection touched. How that storm did rage, to be sure! The whole sea was lashed into a boiling sheet of foam, and the schooner lay over so much that it was impossible for the men to stand on the deck.
The sound was that of snoring, and it issued from the wide-open mouth of Sam Sorrel, who lay sprawling on his back, with Tittles coiled up at his feet. It is probable that Sam would have snored on for hours, but for a piece of carelessness on his part. Just before going to rest he had placed a tin can of water close to his head in such a way that it was balanced on the edge of a shelf.
Sam had meant to pay a tribute of respect to the great painter when he named his dog Titian. But having done his duty in this matter, he found it convenient to shorten the name into Tit sometimes Tittles. Tittles had no face whatever, as far as could be seen by the naked eye. His whole misshapen body was covered with long shaggy hair of a light grey colour.
The divine wisdom which knows the secrets of all hearts and their necessities infinitely various, shall exact obedience according to no adamantine law: it loves not the jots and tittles of formalism, nor the pretensions of those who would cast all things in one mould.
He danced in and out among the feet of the dancers in a most perplexing manner, and got his unhappy toes and his unfortunate tail trod upon to a terrible extent. But Tittles did not seem to mind. It is true that he gave a yelp of pain on each occasion, but he instantly forgave the offender if he looked at all sorry.
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