HOW THE DOG TAX WAS PAID.
TWO LITTLE children, Annie and James, were picking up stray pieces of coal near the railroad, to carry to a very poor home. Suddenly they espied a black lump that looked like coal, only it moved. With childish curiosity they crept towards it and found a thin, frightened, hungry dog that had been crippled and beaten by boys.
“Do you dare touch her?” said the girl of nine years. “She might bite.”
“Oh, yes,” said Jimmie, a rugged and alert little fellow of seven. “See, she wags her short tail, and I guess she wants to go home with us.”
“But mother couldn’t take care of her, we’re so poor, and baby Ned and Willie have to eat and have clothes.”
“Oh, I’ll give her some of my bread and milk every night, and Mrs. Martin next door will give her bones, I guess. She hasn’t any boy and she is good to me.”
The girl put her fingers carefully along the black dog’s forehead, and the animal pushed her cold nose against the child’s hand and licked it. She was not used to kind voices, and a girl’s fingers upon her head gave her courage. She half rose to her feet, looked from one to the other and seemed to say, “I will go with you if you will only take me.”
“I wouldn’t pick her up, Jimmie; she’ll follow us.”
“She can’t walk much,” said the boy, “but I’ll help her over the bad places if you’ll carry the basket of coal.”