Silence; but silence palpitant with thought. Then Jane threw up her
head--as if seized with an inspiration. "You're going to walk?" said
she. "All right! _All_ right! Walk if you want to." She made as if to
set out. "_Go_ ahead! But, my _dear_," (she dropped her voice in fear)
"you'll no more'n git to the next corner when _somebody'll steal you!_"

Gwendolyn was silent for a long moment. She glanced from Jane to Thomas,
from Thomas to Jane, and crooked her fingers in and out of her twisted
handkerchief.

"But, Jane," she said finally, "the dogs go out walking--and--and nobody
steals the dogs."

"Hear the silly child!" cried Jane. "Nobody steals the dogs! Why, if
anybody was to steal the dogs what good would it do 'em? They're only
Pomeranians anyhow, and Madam could go straight out and buy more.
Besides, like as not Pomeranians won't be stylish next year, and so
Madam wouldn't care two snaps. She'd go buy the latest thing in
poodles, or else a fine collie, or a spaniel or a Spitz."

"But other little girls walk all the time," insisted Gwendolyn, "and
nobody steals _them_."

Jane crossed her knees, pursed her mouth and folded her arms. "Well,
Thomas," she said, shaking her head, "I guess after all that I'll have
to tell her."

"Ah, yes, I suppose so," agreed Thomas. His tone was funereal.

Gwendolyn looked from one to the other.