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Page 4
The street was quiet. Few persons passed on either side. At last she spied
two little ragamuffins approaching. They seemed to be Jewish lads of the
newsboy class, and they eyed the display of candles appraisingly. The
smaller boy first caught sight of the box in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Hello! Wot's dis?" he grunted, making a dash upon it.
"Gee! Wot's up?" responded the other, who was instantly at his elbow.
"Gwan! Lemme look at it."
The smaller boy drew away and pressed the spring of the box eagerly.
_Ping!_ Out popped the Jack into his astonished face; whereupon he set up a
guffaw.
"Give it here!" commanded the bigger boy.
"Naw! You let it alone! It's mine!" asserted the other, edging away along
the curbstone. "I saw it first. You can't have it."
"Give it here. I saw it first myself. Hand it over, or I'll smash you!"
The bigger boy advanced threateningly.
"I won't!" the other whimpered, clasping the box tightly under his jacket.
He started to run, but the bigger fellow was too quick for him. He pounced
across the sidewalk, and soon the twain were struggling in the snowdrift,
pummeling one another with might and main.
"I told you so!" commented Miss Terry from behind the curtain. "Here's the
first show of the beautiful Christmas spirit that is supposed to be abroad.
Look at the little beasts fighting over something that neither of them
really wants!"
Just then Miss Terry spied a blue-coated figure leisurely approaching. At
the same moment an instinct seemed to warn the struggling urchins.
"Cop!" said a muffled voice from the pile of arms and legs, and in an
instant two black shadows were flitting down the street; but not before the
bigger boy had wrenched the box from the pocket of the little chap.
"So that is the end of experiment number one," quoth Miss Terry, smiling
grimly. "It happened just about as I expected. They will be fighting again
as soon as they are out of sight. They are Jews; but that doesn't make any
difference about the Christmas spirit. Now let's see what becomes of the
next experiment."
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.
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