Mrs. Dalton found it hard to refuse. She loved animals herself, and her only fear of a dog was on account of little Mazie.
"Well, you may keep him until after breakfast, anyhow," she said. "I expect he's hungry. Give him some milk, and then get washed for your own meal."
"Couldn't he have some meat, too?" asked Rick.
"I'll see if I can find him a few scraps. Too much meat isn't good for little dogs. Milk is better. But this isn't such a puppy as I thought at first. I'll see what I can find for him."
And what a meal that was to half-starved Ruddy! Never had scraps of meat, bits of bread and potato and milk tasted so good! He paused now and then, in his eager bolting of the food, to look up at Rick and his mother. Ruddy divided his glances of affection between them, for he did not know to whom he owed most. He ate quickly. A dog does not need to chew his food very much, as it is taken care of in his wonderful stomach. In that he is not like boys and girls, who, the more they chew their food, the better off they are.
"Oh, what you got?" cried a voice behind Rick, as he was watching his dog eat. "What you got?"
"A dog, Mazie," answered her brother. "It's my dog! He came in the night, and he was waiting down on the back steps for me. I prayed for him. Did you pray too, Mazie?"
"No. I—I was going to," said the little girl, "but I was so sleepy I forgot whether you said a dog or a cat, so I just prayed for a new doll for me. Oh, he's a nice dog!"
"I just guess he is!" cried Rick already proud in ownership of something real and alive and almost human. "He's my dog!"
Mrs. Dalton said nothing, but she looked over the heads of the children toward her husband.