a--a FEMALE dog?"

The woman spoke in the tone of horrified contempt that might well
have been hers had she found a rattlesnake and a brace of toads
in her son's pocket. And she lowered her voice, as is the manner
of her kind when forced to speak of the unspeakable. She moved
back from the puppy's politely out-thrust forepaw as from the
passing of a garbage cart.

"A female dog!" she reiterated. "Well, of all the chuckle-heads!
A nasty FEMALE dog, with your birthday money!"

"She's not one bit nasty!" flamed Dick, burying the grubby
fingers of his right hand protectively in the fluffy mass of the
puppy's half-grown ruff. "She's the dandiest dog ever! She--"

"Don't talk back to me!" snapped Mrs. Hazen. "Here! Turn right
around and take her to the cheats who sold her to you. Tell them
to keep her and give you the good money you paid for her. Take
her out of my yard this minute! Quick!"

A hot mist of tears sprang into the boy's eyes. Lass, with the
queer intuition that tells a female collie when her master is
unhappy, whined softly and licked his clenched hand.

"I--aw, PLEASE, Ma!" he begged chokingly. "PLEASE! It's--it's my
birthday, and everything. Please let me keep her. I--I love her
better than 'most anything there is. Can't I please keep her?
Please!"