Mr. Juddikins went, and in tumbled a bundle of red curls, sticky lips, smeared hands, torn coat. It was Katinka. At her heels followed a tall black overcoat with a kind face; Katinka’s father.
“He’s all right, Jerry!” cried Katinka falling into the room. “Mutt’s all right! He’s just a little hurt, and he’s asleep now by our fire. I wrapped his leg up and gave him an enormous supper.”
Katinka’s father spoke next, smiling kindly. “Your dog had a little accident, Mr. Juddikins,” he said.
Accident! Jerry turned white, and Katinka struck in again. “But he’s quite all right, Jerry. He gave me the sweetest looks when I was fixing his leg, and we’ll bring him home in the morning.”
Then Katinka’s father explained to the anxious and bewildered Juddikins what had happened. “It was about seven o’clock,” he said, “and the butcher boy was hurrying his horse down the road, to get home to his supper, I suppose. We heard the horse; he was going like lightning. Katinka was in the yard, and the next thing my wife and I knew was a noise in the road. Katinka was screaming, a dog was yelping. It was your dog, Mr. Juddikins. He had run in front of the cart, and Katinka had run in front of it, too, and had snatched the dog from the horses’ feet.” He looked at Katinka with the proudest eyes. “She really saved him from being killed, I think.”
Katinka had saved Mutt from being killed! That little girl with her sticky hands had run right under the horses’ hoofs and brought their Mutt to safety. The Juddikins couldn’t speak. Their hearts seemed to choke into their very mouths, but they looked at her as if she were something holy.
Katinka started for the door. “It’s all right now,” she said. “I wanted you to know. Oh, he’s a darling dog, Jerry. And his leg is only cut a little because I had to throw him, and he hit the curb.”
“And weren’t you hurt?” asked Mr. Juddikins, the first word any of them had spoken.
“Me? Oh, no. I never get hurt,” answered Katinka loftily, and made for the door.
******