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Updated: May 25, 2025
On a rush chair beside his pillow stood the very double of the Fozzy-gog! yellow eyes, gold collar and padlock, black spots, and all complete! 'Zekiel sprang up, and scrambled into his clothes as quickly as possible. He danced round Granny Pyetangle in an ecstasy of delight, and scarcely eat any breakfast, he was in such a hurry to show his treasure to his two friends.
Granny Pyetangle frequently went to have a chat with Dame Fossie, her large sun-bonnet shading her wrinkled old face, a handkerchief crossed neatly over her print bodice.
His grandmother ought to have spent more of her money on peppermint-cushions, tin trumpets, and whip-tops, and less on those uninteresting household stores; and Dame Fossie should have remembered that crusts are poor work when brandy-snaps and gingerbread are spread before you, and ought more frequently to have bestowed a biscuit on the round-eyed 'Zekiel, as he played with the cat, or poked pieces of stick between the cracks of the floor when Granny Pyetangle wasn't looking.
Granny Pyetangle was sometimes rather cross in those days, and would scold poor 'Zekiel for "clumping in his boots" and "worritting" but 'Zekiel was very patient. "Sick people is wearing at times," said Dame Fossie. "Come you down to me sometimes, 'Zekiel, and I'll let you play with my chaney dog.
Granny Pyetangle was almost well, and quite happy; and 'Zekiel felt his heart overflowing with gratitude towards the Fozzy-gog. "I'll never forget him. Never!" said 'Zekiel to himself, "and I wouldn't tell upon him not if anyone was to worrit me ever so!" and indeed he never did. Years passed, and Dame Fossie's shop was shut, and Dame Fossie herself was laid to rest.
It isn't fit as young lads should be cooped up always!" and when Granny Pyetangle had a neighbour with her, 'Zekiel gladly obeyed. One evening he ran down the village street with a smile on his face, and a new penny in his pocket. Squire Hancock had given it to him for holding his horse, and he was going to spend it at Dame Fossie's on a cake for his grandmother.
When 'Zekiel was nearly six years of age Granny Pyetangle called him up to her, and asked what he would like for his birthday present. 'Zekiel sat down on a wooden stool in the chimney corner, where the iron pot hung, and meditated deeply.
Wild possibilities of delight in the shape of ponies and carts flitted rapidly through his mind, and then the remembrance of Granny Pyetangle, lying ill and suffering on her bed in the little sloping attic, drove everything else from his mind. "I want my poor old Granny to be well again," he said, looking the Fozzy-gog bravely in the face "and I don't want naught else.
Dame Fossie sat sleeping peacefully in a large rush-bottomed chair by the fireplace and Granny Pyetangle, on her bed under the chintz curtains, was sleeping too. 'Zekiel laid the Fozzy-gog's leaf carefully on her forehead, and creeping from the room, threw himself on his own little bed, and was soon as fast asleep as the two old women.
The next morning, when Granny Pyetangle awoke, she said she felt considerably better, and so energetic was she that Dame Fossie had great difficulty in persuading her not to get up. Dame Fossie tidied up the place, and was much annoyed to find a dead leaf sticking to Granny Pyetangle's scanty grey hair.
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