“I know,” Cassy repeated, but the tears still stood in her eyes.
She had hoped that the puppy might be allowed to stay altogether, although from the first her mother had declared that it could not. Jerry was scarcely less distressed than Cassy when he was told that the puppy must go. He did not say much, but he carried the little fellow off to his room and when they came out again Jerry’s eyes were very red, and if any one had taken the trouble to feel the top of the puppy’s head he would have discovered a wet spot upon it, caused by the tears that Jerry had shed.
“If we only lived in the country,” said the boy, “we might keep him, but if anything was going to happen to him on account of our keeping him I would rather have him go and be safe. He won’t get any more tin cans tied to his tail, I’ll bet.”
Cassy nodded emphatically.
“Yes, I’m glad, too, for him, but I’m dreadful sorry for us.”
“I declare,” said Mrs. Law, “I have been so taken up with the thought of the puppy that I nearly forgot to tell you something very pleasant. Who do you think was here this morning?”
“I can’t guess. The rag man? Did you sell the rags? Then we will have something good for supper,” for the visit of the rag man always meant an extra treat, a very modest one, to be sure, but still one that the children looked forward to.
“No, it wasn’t the rag man; it was some one much nicer, and he brought an invitation for you.”
“For me?” Cassy’s eyes opened wide.
“Yes, an invitation to spend the day on Saturday.”