“Suddenly one of the ladies said quickly, ‘Lost dog!’ and stooping down, she stared in my face.
“‘How do you know?’ said the other.
“‘By the look in her eyes,’ the first one went on. ‘She’s dirty, neglected, and probably hungry; likely has been deserted. We have ten minutes before our train leaves. I’ll run down and speak to the man in the ticket office.’
“This dear lady, who was Mrs. Martin, has told to her friends so many times the story of her experiences that I know just what happened. She went first to the office by the gate she had come through, and asked the man sitting there if he knew anything about the lost dog on the platform above.
“He said he did not, but probably some one had dropped it there from a train.
“‘Could it have come in from the street?’ Mrs. Martin asked.
“‘It might,’ he said, ‘but it would have a long passage to come through, and would have to pass in this narrow gate. I guess it’s deserted,’ he said. ‘No dogs ever climb up there.’
“‘Would you take care of it for the night?’ asked Mrs. Martin. ‘Perhaps to-morrow some one might come to look for it.’
“He looked bored, and said he would not.
“‘Do you suppose there is any one about the station that would take charge of it?’ she went on.