But this one was tight. Push as he did with his paws and nose, Ruddy could not uncover the can to get at the meat, the smell of which came through a crack in the top. And then, being only a little dog—a poor, cold, hungry puppy, Ruddy raised his head and howled. It was just as if some small boy or girl had cried.
Sadly and mournfully Ruddy howled, because he could not shove the cover off the garbage pail, and get at what was within. And then, with the first echo of the hungry dog's cry dying away, the kitchen door opened and there stood Rick.
At first the boy could scarcely believe that what he saw was real—a small, reddish-brown dog at his doorsteps. But then, as Ruddy stopped howling, wagged his tail and crawled to Rick's feet, the boy's eyes sparkled in delight. He leaned down, put his arms around Ruddy's neck, hugging him close, as only a boy can hug a dog, and Rick shouted.
"He's come! He's here! I got him!"
"What's that? Who's there? What have you got?" asked Rick's mother.
"I've got a dog!" cried Rick in ringing tones. "He came in the night. I prayed that I'd get him, and I did! He's here! I was afraid it might be a cat, like Mazie prayed for a doll carriage and got a cradle. But I got a dog all right. Oh, you're my dog! You're my dog!" and then Ruddy, looking up into the eyes of Rick, knew that he had found what he wanted all his short life—someone to whom he could really belong!
Mrs. Dalton came to the door. She looked at Rick hugging the reddish-brown puppy, and a troubled look came over her face.
"Where did you get him?" she asked.
"He was right here—on the steps waiting for me," answered Rick. "I hoped he'd be here when I woke up, but I couldn't be sure. You see I didn't pray very long—only one night."
"Richard Dalton! You didn't pray for a dog; did you?" asked his mother, rather shocked, though she did not know exactly why.