“I soon disposed of this breakfast. Then she went up to the birds’ bath on a stand and lifted down a nice, shallow green dish for me to have a drink.
“‘And now,’ she said, when I stood gazing adoringly up at her and wagging my tail gratefully, ‘hey ho! for the veterinary’s.’
“I did not know what she meant, but by this time I was ready to follow her anywhere, and I trotted after her down to the sidewalk, where stood one of the fast automobiles that we saw dashing by our cottage in the Bronx, but that never stopped anywhere near us.
“‘Come in,’ she said, and held open the door.
“I was terrified and drew back. It was not so bad as a train, but I just hated to go near it.
“‘Now, doggie,’ she said, ‘can’t you trust me?’
“I could not move, and she had to lift me up and put me on the seat. Then she put her arm round me, and little by little I began to lose my fright. How we hurried through the streets, but it was not nearly so bad as the train, for here it was open and pleasant, and I could look about me as we flew along.
“The thing we were in was called a taxi, and now I am not at all afraid of one, and Mrs. Martin jokes me and says she has seen me on the corner of the street waving my paw for the taxi men to stop and take me in when I feel lazy.
“‘A dog in very humble circumstances,’ she said, ‘for even the poor drive in automobiles now.’
“When we arrived at the veterinary’s I jumped out and followed her. I was struck dumb with surprise. Mrs. Martin had explained to me that the man who lived here earned his living by doctoring dogs and horses. The house was a very fine one, much larger than the café, and it had a lovely neat garden and not a trash can or ugly box in sight.