In which we find out that a dog refuses to be separated from its little mistress.

Rags was a dear little snow-white poodle with such soft curly wool that he looked more like a lamb than a dog. The man who gave him to Mary called him “Rags,” but no one could understand why such a beautiful woolly dog should be called “Rags.”

Mary was a little lame girl and could not run about and play like other little girls, for she had to hop about on a crutch. Rags was her very best friend, and they were always together. Mary’s father was dead, and her mother worked out all day leaving Mary alone with Rags. They were never lonesome, however, for they were always happy when they were together.

One morning Mary and Rags were sitting on the doorstep watching the people when a black-eyed man came by.

“That’s a very fine poodle,” said he.

“Indeed, he is,” cried Mary. “He’s my very own and I love him more than anything else.”

“Can he do any tricks?” asked the man.

“I should say so,” said Mary, for she had taught the dog all he knew. “Just watch him.”

Rags stood on his head and danced, and even tried to speak by little barks. The man asked Mary if she would sell him.

“No, indeed, I won’t,” answered Mary, “he is my own Rags and I cannot let you have him.”

The man seemed to be very angry, and went away.

The next morning the black-eyed man came back and again asked Mary to sell him the dog. Mary again refused. Suddenly he glanced hastily up and down the street, and seeing no one, grabbed Rags from Mary’s arms and fled. Mary screamed and tried to follow, but her poor little crutch would not let her. She sobbed and cried until she grew white and cold, and her mother found her in a little heap on the floor with her little crutch beside her.

All night long she tossed to and fro calling for Rags, and when morning came she had a high fever.

One afternoon when everything was so still in the room that you could hear Mary’s faint breathing, there was a pattering of feet and a little white poodle dashed into the room and jumped on the bed. It was Rags! But you would never have known him for he was thin and dirty, and his little feet were bleeding as if he had traveled a long way. He licked Mary’s face and tried to tell her how he got away from the man, but Mary could not understand dog language, and so she never knew.

From that day Mary grew better, and though she never could understand how Rags came back to her, she just smiled and said he found his way because he loved her so much.