There was the sound of quick steps on the drive; a moment after, Blue Bonnet, hatless, her white dress soiled and crumpled, appeared, carrying a small dog in her arms.
“Grandmother,” she cried, “I’ve got a dog! I bought him from a boy up the road,—he was treating him mighty mean.”
“What are you going to do with him, Elizabeth?” Miss Clyde asked.
“Why, keep him, Aunt Lucinda. He’s a pretty dilapidated-looking specimen now, isn’t he? But wait until he’s had a bath and a few good meals. I reckon if ever a dog needed a good home, he does.”
Blue Bonnet put the dog down and he made straight for Aunt Lucinda, crouching at her feet beseechingly. He was truly the forlornest of creatures, but with strangely pathetic, intelligent brown eyes.
A moment Miss Clyde wavered; then she moved away. “I think those ‘good meals’ cannot begin too soon, Elizabeth,” she said. “But he must stay down at the stable.”
“‘GRANDMOTHER,’ SHE CRIED. ‘I’VE GOT A DOG.’”