and wait here till Mother comes out."

She rang the area bell and stood basket in hand, waiting to be admitted.
But Johnnie gazed at one spot in the street, with eyes full of tears, and
with now and then a sob gurgling from his throat. He could not forget what
he had seen.

The door opened for the mother, who disappeared inside the house, with one
last command to the child: "Now be a good boy, Johnnie. I'll be back in
half a minute."

Hardly was she out of sight when Johnnie started through the snowdrift
toward the middle of the street. With difficulty he lifted his little legs
out of the deep snow; now and then he stumbled and fell into the soft mass.
But he rose only the more determined upon his errand, and kept his eyes
fixed on the wreck of the Flanton Dog.

Bob Cooper, who was idly strolling up and down the block, smoking a
cigarette, as he watched the flitting girlish shadows in a certain window
opposite, saw the child's frantic struggles in the snow and was intensely
amused. "Bah Jove!" he chuckled. "I believe he's after the wretched dawg
that I tossed over there with my stick. Fahncy it!" And carelessly he
puffed a whiff of smoke.

At last the baby reached the middle of the street and stooped to pick up
the battered toy. It was flattened and shapeless, but the child clasped it
tenderly and began to coo softly to it.

"Bah Jove!" repeated Cooper. "Fahncy caring so much about anything! Poor
kid! Perhaps that is all the Christmas he will have." He blew a thoughtful