"
"You better get him out of the way of that fat man," advised the
conductor. "He owns the dog, you know. Bulson, I mean. He's forward in
the other car, gourmandizing himself on a jar of condensed milk. I let
him have one can; but I'm going to hold the rest against emergency. Now
that the snow has stopped falling," he added cheerfully, as he passed on,
"they ought to get help to us pretty soon."
The puppy was ready to cuddle down in his carrier and go to sleep when he
had lapped up the milk. Nan wiped his silky ears with her pocket
handkerchief, and his cunning little muzzle as well, and left him with a
pat to go and seek Bess.
She found her chum still talking with Mr. Snubbins in the opening between
the two cars. "Oh, Nan!" cried the impulsive one, rushing to meet her
chum. "What do you think?"
"On what subject, young lady--on what subject?" demanded Nan, in her most
dictatorial way, and aping one of the teachers at Lakeview Hall.
"On the subject of eats!" laughed Bess.
"Oh, my dear! Don't talk about it, please! If you drew a verbal picture
of a banquet right now," Nan declared, "I'd eat it, verb and all."
"Do be sane and sensible," said Bess, importantly. "We're going out to
supper. Now, wait! don't faint, Nan. This Mr. Snubbins is a dear! Why, he
is a regular angel with chin whiskers--nothing less.
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