“I saw what became of him,” said Miss Terry.  “Bob Cooper threw him under an automobile, and he was crushed flatter than a pancake.”

“Then you left the window,” said the Angel.  “In your human way you assumed that this was the end.  But wait and see.”

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.