“He doesn’t have to eat,” Ted remarked indifferently, “he had a free lunch on the way over.”
“He did!” screeched Nancy. “And you let us go to all this trouble!” She kicked the tin pan of water over in sheer disgust.
“Well, I thought he might like something else,” murmured the small boy, provokingly. “He only had a big soup bone and loaf of bread.”
Taking off their cooking-school caps and unbuttoning their aprons as they went, the girls wended their way back to the deserted class room.
“Can anyone beat that?” remarked Nancy, inelegantly. “Ted and his dog and the big—soup—bone! I could put a tune to that; a sad mournful dirgy tune.”
“Wherever do you suppose he picked up the brute?” Ruth asked. “I don’t remember having seen him around town.”
“Oh, trust Ted,” replied Nancy. “When we first came here, mother answered him once, in a most casual, unthinking way: 'Yes.’ It seemed his question was could he have a dog, and mother hadn’t been paying strict attention. Since then he’s been on a hunt for a dog. He brought home a poor half-dead little tatters one day, but some boy followed him up and claimed the beauty. I wonder if this one will be left to him? He seems pretty particular about his food, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” replied Ruth, who was just glancing out the door. Suddenly she exclaimed:
“Here’s a taxi coming, and it’s the one mother always uses. I guess she’s sending for me, I’ll go out and see.”
Nancy looked out and saw Ruth talking earnestly to the driver. She seemed to be disagreeing with the message he was giving her, and she turned abruptly to come back to Nancy.