Meg put the strange dog down on the gravel path. He swayed unsteadily on three legs.
"Look, Norah," she said, "His leg is broken. Doctor Maynard set it. And we only want to get him a drink of water. He's thirsty. He needn't even come into the house."
Norah had a sharp tongue, but her heart was generous and sweet.
"The poor beastie!" she said, opening the screen door of her jealously guarded kitchen. "Bring him in, Meg. He do be having fever, I suspect. I'll get him a cup of water. Dear, dear!"
Making a soft, sympathetic, clucking noise, Norah hurried to get a cup of cool water which the little dog lapped up greedily, standing on his three good legs.
"Bobby said he thought Sam would let him sleep in the garage," said Meg. "I suppose it is cooler there for him. All right, Norah, I'll carry him out. But we want to show him to Mother."
"She went to meet your father—she and Sam with the car," Norah told them. "And if I don't
