“He’s nothing of the sort. He’s in a fit, and he ought to be perfectly quiet! I tell you, let me get him!” cried Jan.
The unfortunate little victim of this stupidity and brutality had lain motionless for the last moment, and Jan bent over him tenderly. “Dear little dog,” she said, “let me take you.” The brown eyes, full of misery and pain—for he had recovered consciousness and was coming out of the spasm—were raised to the pitiful face above him, and, recognizing that at last here was one human being who had mercy, the poor dry little tongue came out in an effort to lap the quivering chin, just out of reach.
Taking care to keep her hands away from the dog’s teeth, which might close on them in pain and with no intent to bite, Jan raised the helpless creature in her arms. One leg hung limp, and the dog moaned.
“You have broken his leg!” cried Jan, turning indignantly on the crowd. “Oh, how can you call yourselves human beings and treat a little, dumb, helpless thing like that? They haven’t any one but us to help them! The next time you see a dog sick that way lay him where he’s quiet and wet his head, and don’t, don’t ever hurt him! He’s just had a spasm, and now you’ve broken his leg!”
“You brutes! To treat a little dog like that!”
The men began to mutter, but several looked heartily ashamed of themselves. Some boys jeered at Jan, but she paid no attention. Turning to Gwen, who had come up, she looked at her and down at the dog in her arms, totally unable to speak.
Gwen was not less distressed than Jan. She did not even see that the little yellow body was dripping mud on the front of Jan’s dress. “We must take him to a doctor, Jan,” she said. “You are an old trump to drive down on the crowd like that! I always want to do something, but I don’t quite dare.”
“It isn’t daring. I don’t stop to dare—I rush,” said Jan. “Where is a dog-doctor, and how shall we go?”
Gladys stood afar, witnessing this incident with unspeakable horror. A girl to rush madly down on a crowd like that, harangue them, and take up a muddy, mongrel cur in broad daylight, and on Fifth Avenue! And Gwen, not much better, to follow her! She picked up Jan’s books as if they had been dynamite, and walked away with her head in the air, too disgusted for adequate expression. Jan was a gipsy. She certainly looked like one, with her hat off and her hair frowzy—reddish hair, too! Gladys had not noticed before how red the brown was in the sunshine.