The Christmas Angel by Abbie Farwell Brown


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Page 13

Once more the room darkened and blurred, and Miss Terry looked out upon
past events as upon a busy, ever-shifting stage.




CHAPTER IX

THE DOG AGAIN


She saw the snowy street, into which, from the tip of his stick, Bob Cooper
had just tossed the Flanton Dog. She saw, what she had not seen before, the
woman and child on the opposite side of the street. She saw the baby
stretch out wistful hands after the dog lying in the snow. Then an
automobile honked past, and she felt again the thrill of horror as it ran
over the poor old toy. At the same moment the child screamed, and she saw
it point tearfully at the Flanton tragedy. The mother, who had seen nothing
of all this, stooped and spoke to him reprovingly.

"What's the matter, Johnnie?" she said. "Sh! Don't make such a noise. Here
we are at Mrs. Wales's gate, and you mustn't make a fuss. Now be a good boy
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
puff through his nose. "Christmas Eve!" The thought flashed through his
mind with a new appeal.

Just then came a sudden "_Honk, honk!_" An automobile had turned the corner
and was coming up at full speed. It was the same machine which had passed a
few minutes earlier in the opposite direction.

"Hi there!" Cooper yelled to the child. But the latter was sitting in the
snow in the middle of the street, rocking back and forth, with the Flanton
Dog in his arms. There was scarcely time for action. Bob dropped his
cigarette and his cane, made one leap into the street and another to the
child, and by the impact of his body threw the baby into the drift at the
curb. With a horrified _honk_ the automobile passed over the young man, who
lay senseless in the snow.

[Illustration: BOB COOPER SAVES THE BABY]

He was not killed. Miss Terry saw him taken to his home close by, where his
broken leg was set and his bruises attended to. She saw him lying bandaged
and white on his bed when the woman and her child were brought to see him.
Johnnie was still clasping closely the unlucky Flanton Dog.

"Well, Kid," said the young man feebly, "so you saved the dog, after all."

"O sir!" cried the poor woman, weeping. "Only to think that he would not
be here now but for you. What a Christmas that would have been for me! You
were so good, so brave!"

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Mon 3rd Feb 2025, 22:04