that they make frankfurters out of those
poor dogs," moaned Dot, repeating a legend prevalent among the rougher
school children at that time.

"Pshaw! he was stringin' you kids," said Sammy, with more wisdom,
falling in with Dot behind the determined Tess. "What'll we do? Tess is
going right after that old van."

"We mustn't leave her," Dot said. "Oh! I _wish_ Ruthie had seen those
horrid men take Tom Jonah."

As it was there seemed nothing to do but to follow the valiant Tess on
her quest toward the dog pound. As for Tess herself she had no intention
of losing sight of Tom Jonah. She made up her mind that no matter how
far the van went the poor old dog who had been their friend for so long
should not be deserted.

At the seashore, soon after Tom Jonah had first come to live with the
Corner House girls, the dog had been instrumental in saving the lives of
both Tess and Dot. He had often guarded them when they played and when
they worked. They depended upon him at night to keep away prowlers from
the Corner House henroost. No ill-disposed persons ever troubled the
premises at the Corner of Willow and Main Streets after one glimpse of
Tom Jonah.

"I don't care!" sobbed Tess, her plump cheeks streaked with tears, when
her little sister and Sammy caught up with her a block away from home.
"I don't care. They sha'n't put poor Tom Jonah in the gas chamber. _I_
know what they do to poor doggies. They sha'n't treat him so!"

"But what'll you do, Tess!" demanded Sammy, amazed by the determination
and courage of his little friend.

"I don't know just what I'll do when I get there but I'll do
something--you see if I don't, Sammy Pinkney!" threatened this usually
mild and retiring Tess Kenway.

CHAPTER XXIV

IT ENGAGES AUNT SARAH'S ATTENTION

Ruth, as has been said, was away from the house when this dreadful thing
happened to Tom Jonah. Uncle Rufus was too lame to have followed the dog
catchers' van in any case, had he seen the capture of their pet.

But Mrs. MacCall and Aunt Sarah were sitting together sewing in the
latter's big front room over the dining-room of the Corner House.
Looking out of the window by which she sat, and biting off a thread
reflectively, the housekeeper said:

"It's on my mind, Miss Maltby, that our Ruth is not so chirpy as she
used to be."

"She's growing up," said Aunt Sarah. "I'll be glad when they're all
grown up." And then she added something that would have quite shocked
all