Now, even a charity-girl could scarcely resist a bull-pup of six weeks old, and Nan felt a shiver of longing and delight creeping over her. She forgot Sophia Maria (the neglected doll was thrown on the nearest chair), and the next instant the little pup was clasped in the girl’s arms. She was hugging it and petting it when Kitty came back. If there was one creature on earth whom Kitty loved it was Jack, and she had been wondering if another of the pups, little Flo or Tommy, would do equally well for Nan’s possession. But Flo and Tommy were not nearly as perfect as Jack, for Jack was a little prince of bull-pups, perfect in every respect, with one white ear and one black, and with the most impudent face it was possible for a dog to have; and now Nan was smiling at him, and pressing his little cheek against hers, and then Kitty knew it was all up with her as far as Jack was concerned. She ran quickly forward.
“Oh! you have got Jack; he is yours, you know.”
She panted out the words, being anxious to get the presentation over, to have the thing done beyond recall. Nan’s face turned a little whiter.
“I am so sorry!” she said. “I know I ought not to have touched your pup, but he came to my feet, and he is so sweet!”
“Oh! you would like him, would you not?” said Kitty.
“Like him!” cried Nan. “I love him!”
“Then he is yours—yours! You may have him altogether.”
“I—what!” cried Nan.
“I mean that he is mine, and I give him to you. We have got plenty more; will you take him? Say so—quick!”
Nan looked full into Kitty’s eyes. Now, this was the last thing Kitty wished, for in spite of all her heroism and her desire to be as generous as possible, her eyes were full of tears.