I may possess as mine.
THE TREATING OF WHITEY.
BERTHA SEAVEY SAUNIER.
HIS coat was thin—so thin that his skin showed through in patches. And the skin was thin—so thin that the bones almost pricked through in a mute appeal to the public.
He walked the streets until his four little feet dragged with weariness and he often sat down upon his haunches to rest.
When he stopped people noticed him and many turned as they went past, watching him—he was so pitiable a sight.
"Mangy dog," somebody said, but he was more than that. He was lost and he was starving. He was so needy that he had forsaken his alley haunts and had come up to the boulevards where was greater prosperity, sunshine, cleanliness, and perhaps love toward man and beast.