Oh, Tess! cried the smallest girl. He thinks he knows me. Do you suppose we have ever seen him before?
I dont believe so, said Tess, bustling into the woodshed and out again with a pan of broken meat that had been put aside for Sandyface and her children. I know I should remember him if I had ever seen him before. Come, old fellow! Good doggie! Come up and eat.
She put the pan down on the porch and stood back from it. The brown eyes of the dog glowed more brightly. He hesitatingly hobbled up the steps.
A single sniff of the tidbits in the pan, and the dog fell to wolfishly, not stopping to chew at all, but fairly jerking the meat into his throat with savage snaps.
Oh, dont gobble so! gasped Dot. It its bad for your indigestions and isnt polite, anyway.
Guess you wouldnt be polite if you were as hungry as he is, Tess observed.
The dog was so tired that he lay right down, after a moment, and ate with his nose in the pan. Dot ventured to pat his wet coat and he thumped his tail softly on the boards, but did not stop eating.
At this juncture Uncle Rufus came shuffling up the path from the hen-coop. Uncle Rufus was a tall, stoop-shouldered, pleasantly brown negro, with a very bald crown around which was a narrow growth of tight, grizzled wool. He had a smiling face, and if the whites of his eyes were turning amber hued with age he was still purty pert to use his own expression save when the rheumatism laid him low.
Whar yo chillen done git dat dawg? he wanted to know, in astonishment.
Oh, Uncle Rufus! cried Dot. He came along looking so wet
And he was so tired and hungry, added Tess.
I done spec yo chillen would take in er wild taggar, ef one come erlong lookin sort o meachin, grumbled the colored man.
But hes so good! said Tess. See! and she put her hand upon the handsome head of the bedraggled beast.
He jes er tramp dawg, said Uncle Rufus, doubtfully.
Hes only tired and dirty, said Tess, earnestly. I dont believe he wants to be a tramp. He doesnt look at all like the tramps Mrs. MacCall feeds at the back door here.
Nor like those horrid Gypsies that came to the house the other day, added Dot eagerly. I was afraid of them.
Well, it suah aint blong round yere dat dawg, muttered Uncle Rufus. It done run erway fom somewhar an hit trabbel far ya-asm!
He pulled the ears of the big dog himself, in a kindly fashion, and the dog pounded the porch harder with his tail and rolled a trusting eye up at the little group. Evidently the tramp dog was convinced that this would be a good place to remain in, and rest up.
A pretty girl of twelve or thirteen, with flower-like face, plump, and her blue eyes dancing and laughing in spite of her, ran in at the side gate. She had a covered basket of groceries on her arm, and was swathed in a raincoat with a close hood about her face.
Agnes! screamed Dot. See what weve got! Just the nicest, friendfulnest dog
Mercy, Dot! More animals? was the older sisters first comment.
But hes such a nice dog, wailed Dot.
And so hungry and wet, added Tess.
What fine eyes he has! exclaimed Agnes, stooping down to pat the noble head. Instantly the dogs pink tongue sought her hand and Agnes was won!
Hes splendid! hes a fine old fellow! she cried. Of course well keep him, Dot.
If Ruthie says so, added Tess, with a loyalty to the oldest Corner House girl born of the fact that Ruth had mothered the brood of three younger sisters since their real mother had died three years previous.
I dunno wot yo chillen want er dawg for, complained Uncle Rufus.
To keep chicken thieves away, said Agnes, promptly, laughing roguishly at the grumbling black man.
Oh! cried Tess. You said yourself, Uncle Rufus, that those Gypsies that stopped here might be looking at Ruths chickens.
Well, I done guess dat tramp dawg knows when hes well off, said the old man, chuckling suddenly. Hes layin down lak hes fixin tuh stay ya-asm!
The dog had crept to the
most sheltered corner of the porch and curled up on an old rag mat Mrs. MacCall had left there for the cats.
He ought to have that dirty old rope taken off, said Agnes.
Uncle Rufus drew out his clasp knife and opened the blade. He approached the weary dog and knelt down to remove the rope.
Glo-ree ! he exclaimed, suddenly. He done got er collar on him.
It was hidden in the thick hair about the dogs neck. The three girls crowded close to see, Uncle Rufus unbuckled it and handed the leather strap to Agnes.
See if there is any name and address on it, Aggie! gasped Tess. Oh! I hope not. Then, if we dont know where he came from, hes ours for keeps.
There was a small brass plate; but no name, address, or license number was engraved upon it. Instead, in clear script, it was marked:
Tom Jonah, murmured Agnes. What a funny name!
When Ruth came home the younger girls bore her off at once to see Tom Jonah sleeping comfortably on the porch. The old dog raised his grizzled muzzle, wagged his tail, and beamed at her out of his soft brown eyes.