CHAPTER III

THE FLANTON DOG


She returned to the play box by the fire, and rummaged for a few minutes
among the tangled toys. Then with something like a chuckle she drew out a
soft, pale creature with four wobbly legs.

"The Flanton Dog!" she said. "Well, I vow! I had forgotten all about him.
It was Tom who coined the name for him because he was made of Canton
flannel."

She stood the thing up on the table as well as his weak legs would allow,
and inspected him critically. He certainly was a forlorn specimen. One of
the black beads which had served him for eyes was gone. His ears, which had
originally stood up saucily on his head, now drooped in limp dejection. One
of them was a mere shapeless rag hanging by a thread. He was dirty and
discolored, and his tail was gone. But still he smiled with his red-thread
mouth and seemed trying to make the best of things.

"What a nightmare!" said Miss Terry contemptuously. "I know there isn't a
child in the city who wants such a looking thing. Why, even the Animal
Rescue folks would give the boys a 'free shot' at that. This isn't going to
bring out any Christmas spirit," she sneered. "I will try it and see."

Once more she lifted the window and tossed the dog to the sidewalk. He
rolled upon his back and lay pathetically with crooked legs yearning
upward, still smiling. Hardly had Miss Terry time to conceal herself behind
the curtain when she saw a figure approaching, airily waving a stick.