which kept the door of the dog crate closed. "Do you girls know the owner
of this pup? You seem to know everybody."

"We know a Mr. Ravell Bulson by sight, Mr. Carter," Nan said quietly.

"And he's just the meanest man!" began impulsive Bess; but her chum
stopped her with a glance.

"Well! Mr. Ravell Bulson, Jr., has a fine pup here," declared the
conductor, releasing the agitated little creature.

The spaniel could not show his delight sufficiently when he was out of
the crate. He capered about them, licking the girl's shoes, tumbling
down in his haste and weakness, and uttering his funny little bark in
excited staccato.

Bess finally grabbed him up and, after kissing her, suddenly, right under
the ear, and making her squeal, he snuggled down in her arms, his little
pink tongue hanging out and his eyes shining (so Bess declared) like "two
brown stars."

"'Brown stars' is good," chuckled Nan. "You'll be talking about a cerise
sky next, with a pea-green sun."

"Such a carping critic!" returned Bess. "But what care I? His eyes are
brown stars, so now! And if you're not very good, Nan Sherwood, I'll make
him bite you."

Mr. Carter was leading the way to the forward car, and the girls followed
with the spaniel. It seemed a little lighter under the tunneled snow-bank