BOB COOPER SAVES THE BABY
He was not killed. Miss Terry saw him taken to his home close by, where his broken leg was set and his bruises attended to. She saw him lying bandaged and white on his bed when the woman and her child were brought to see him. Johnnie was still clasping closely the unlucky Flanton Dog.
"Well, Kid," said the young man feebly, "so you saved the dog, after all."
"O sir!" cried the poor woman, weeping. "Only to think that he would not be here now but for you. What a Christmas that would have been for me! You were so good, so brave!"
"Oh, rot!" protested Bob faintly. "Had to do it; my fault anyway; Christmas Eve,—couldn't see a kid hurt on Christmas Eve."
He called the attendant and asked for the pocket-book which had been in his coat at the time of the accident. Putting it into the woman's hand, he said, "Good-by. Get Johnnie something really jolly for Christmas. I'm afraid the dog is about all in. Get him a new one."
But Johnnie refused to have a new dog. It was the poor, shapeless Flanton animal which remained the darling of his heart for many a moon.
All this of past and future Miss Terry knew through the Angel's power. When once more the library lightened, and she saw the pink figure smiling at her from the mantel, she spoke of her own accord.
"It was my fault, because I put the dog in the way. I caused all that trouble."