"What, Nancy Newton, you here?" continued the surgeon, addressing the last speaker, "and Belle Cary? Have you two girls been sassing our military friends?" indicating the two officers with a wave of his hand.
"Indeed, no, Doctor John," protested Nancy; "such an idea never entered our heads. But these gentlemen don't seem to believe me."
Major Goddard stepped forward, and raised his cap.
"The young lady is mistaken, doctor," he said gravely. "We do believe her, notwithstanding," glancing quizzically at Nancy, "that we have not yet seen her dog."
"Misery!" exclaimed the surgeon, laughing. "So my four-footed friend has gotten you into hot water again, Nancy? I might have known it. Here's the rascal now."
Around the corner of Twelfth Street, with an air of conscious virtue, trotted the cause of all the trouble—a handsome, red-brown field spaniel. Robert Goddard, a lover of dogs, snapped his fingers and whistled, but Misery paid not the slightest attention to his blandishments. Wagging his tail frantically, he tore up to Nancy, and frisked about her.
"Misery, give me that bone." Nancy stooped over, and endeavored to take it from the struggling dog. "I cannot stop his eating in the streets. Oh, he's swallowed it!" Misery choked violently, and looked with reproachful eyes at his mistress. "You sinner," patting the soft brown body, "come along—that is," addressing Lloyd, "if you do not wish to detain us any longer."
"You are at liberty to go." Lloyd bowed stiffly.
"Hold on, Nancy; if you have no particular engagement, come with me to my office. I have a bottle of medicine to send your aunt," exclaimed Doctor Boyd hastily. "Good evening, gentlemen." And he bowed curtly to Lloyd and his friend.
On reaching F Street, the group of girls separated, and Nancy accompanied Doctor Boyd to his office.