He kissed her many times,
and wagged his tail with vigor. He was telling her that he was very
sorry to find such a nice little girl out so late; but that he knew she
_was_ a nice little girl, and he should like the pleasure of seeing her
home. And Flora understood him perfectly. She was no longer alone. She
held the dog's shaggy head close to the bosom of her wet dress and told
him she was lost, and that he was a splendid old fellow to poke his
nose into her hand, and that if he would show her the way to mamma's
house he should have as many bones as he could eat. And the bones made
her think of her own bowl of bread and milk, waiting on the table at
home. Was it waiting there now, or had somebody carried it away,
thinking she would never need it? She sighed, and patted her friend's
cold nose, and whispered that she was very hungry. He understood all
about that, too. Many a time he had gone to bed without any supper; but
he said nothing to Flora of his own sufferings. He licked her hand in
silent sympathy.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHARLEY SWALLOWS THE ROOSTER.
They went out into the road together, Flora clinging closely to the
dog's shaggy coat and talking pleasantly as they trotted along, side by
side.
"Do you live somewhere? I do. When I get there. Don't know the way. You
do, nice doggy. I like you. Are you all wet? I am. And cold? I am too.
Musn't cry if you are wet. I don't, and good dogs don't. Get home pretty
soon."
When she saw houses and the lights shining, she was rejoiced, for now
she would have supper, dry clothes and a warm bed.
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