Cologne was in the rear seat with Dorothy. Molly Richards made the trio, while next came Nita, Lena, and a little frightened girl, all the way from Georgia. It was her first term, and all the escapades did not help to make her impression of school life in the North any the less mystifying.
“What’s up now?” asked Molly, as the big machine came to another sudden stop.
“Jake sees something,” replied Dorothy. “He has the queerest habit of seeing things that no one else can see.”
“Yes, there he is getting out. A chicken likely,” put in Nita.
For a few moments the girls waited rather anxiously. Then the chauffeur came back to the car.
“What is it?” called a chorus.
“Can’t just say yet,” answered Jacob, “but I think it’s one of them velvet poodles that someone has dropped out of a car.”
“Oh, do let me have it,” begged Jean, who, being with Jake naturally felt the best right to his find.
“I’ve got to look him over, and see as he isn’t hurt,” replied the driver. “A little fluff of a thing like this doesn’t lie in the road, when he’s got the use of his legs.”
“Let us see him, Jake,” implored Tavia. “You know I always take good care of the Glen dogs—when there are any.”