more like it," she
said with a smile.
"You're keeping track of the money you're getting, aren't
you?" asked her mother.
"We sure are," Melanie answered, heading for her
room. "Christie's our accountant," she called over her shoulder.
"Oh, that reminds me," her mother called after
her. "Mona Vaughn called to say that the shelter will give you a
fifty-dollar discount. Congratulations."
"Whoopee!" Melanie sang to herself as she raced
into her room. After the disastrous trip to the mall, she needed cheering up. "And
I'll bet there's fifty dollars here." She dropped the envelopes on her
desk and tore one open. It contained five dollars. She laid it on the corner of
her desk and put the accompanying letter aside.
The rest of the envelopes had an assortment of money from
two to ten dollars. The total was thirty-three dollars.
Melanie held the stack of money against her cheek. It wasn't
fifty dollars, but it was a lot more than the five dollars and forty-five cents
they had gotten in the mail the day before. It was enough for one and a half
animals, and if she got even more tomorrow and the next day, they had a chance
to get the three hundred and twenty-five dollars they needed now with the
fifty-dollar discount from the shelter.
She arranged the letters that had come with the money in a
neat stack to look at later. I'll call Christie right away, she thought,
getting up. She can tell me what the new total is and we can count dogs and
cats. When Melanie came into the living room, she found her mother with Mrs.
Miller.
"Sit down, Clare, and tell us what's wrong." Mrs.
Edwards was holding Mrs. Miller's arm and helping her into a chair. Melanie had
been so busy with the money she hadn't heard the doorbell chime. Mrs. Miller's eyes
were red, as if she had been crying, and she was holding a scrap of paper in
her hand.
"I've just received a call from Mrs. Mertz on Sherwood
Street," she said in a shaky voice as she wiped her eyes with a crumpled
tissue.
"There, there," said Melanie's mother, patting her
hand. "Can we get you a glass of water or something?" Mrs. Miller waved
her hand to reject the offer.
"What did Mrs. Mertz say?" asked Mrs. Edwards.
Mrs. Miller looked up at her. Her eyes were brimming with
tears. "They said they found the body of a little Pomeranian dog that had
a tag saying its name was Duchess, and my telephone number was on it."
"Way over on Sherwood?" Melanie said in disbelief.
"How could she have gotten way over there?"
Mrs. Miller shook her head. "They said it looked as if
she had been run over."
"Oh, my," said Melanie's mother. "Did they
give you their address?"
Mrs. Miller held up the paper she had been holding, and Mrs.
Edwards took it.
After she read it, she handed it to Melanie. "Your
father's down in the basement. Go tell him what's happened, and ask him if he'll
go get Duchess. Tell him to take a box along."
Melanie went with her father to get Duchess. When they
returned, he got a shovel, and they scraped the snow away and buried the little
box with the body in it in the corner of Mrs. Miller's backyard.
"Go get your mother and Clare," said Mr. Edwards. "We'll
show them where Duchess is buried."
Melanie did as she was told, but before she followed them
back to Mrs. Miller's yard, she ran into the family room and took a red
carnation from a vase.
When she joined the others at the small grave site, she
handed the carnation to Mrs. Miller. The older lady smiled at her and laid in
on the little mound of earth.
CHAPTER 10
"That was so sad," said Melanie at the dinner
table that night. "Mrs. Miller really took it hard."
"Yes, she did," her mother agreed. "She had
Duchess for a long time. The little dog was like a baby to her. A lot of older
people need animals as companions. They give them something to care for that
can return their affection."
"I was thinking," said Melanie. "Would it be
too soon to give her another dog?"
Her mother looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"My friends and I have
said with a smile.
"You're keeping track of the money you're getting, aren't
you?" asked her mother.
"We sure are," Melanie answered, heading for her
room. "Christie's our accountant," she called over her shoulder.
"Oh, that reminds me," her mother called after
her. "Mona Vaughn called to say that the shelter will give you a
fifty-dollar discount. Congratulations."
"Whoopee!" Melanie sang to herself as she raced
into her room. After the disastrous trip to the mall, she needed cheering up. "And
I'll bet there's fifty dollars here." She dropped the envelopes on her
desk and tore one open. It contained five dollars. She laid it on the corner of
her desk and put the accompanying letter aside.
The rest of the envelopes had an assortment of money from
two to ten dollars. The total was thirty-three dollars.
Melanie held the stack of money against her cheek. It wasn't
fifty dollars, but it was a lot more than the five dollars and forty-five cents
they had gotten in the mail the day before. It was enough for one and a half
animals, and if she got even more tomorrow and the next day, they had a chance
to get the three hundred and twenty-five dollars they needed now with the
fifty-dollar discount from the shelter.
She arranged the letters that had come with the money in a
neat stack to look at later. I'll call Christie right away, she thought,
getting up. She can tell me what the new total is and we can count dogs and
cats. When Melanie came into the living room, she found her mother with Mrs.
Miller.
"Sit down, Clare, and tell us what's wrong." Mrs.
Edwards was holding Mrs. Miller's arm and helping her into a chair. Melanie had
been so busy with the money she hadn't heard the doorbell chime. Mrs. Miller's eyes
were red, as if she had been crying, and she was holding a scrap of paper in
her hand.
"I've just received a call from Mrs. Mertz on Sherwood
Street," she said in a shaky voice as she wiped her eyes with a crumpled
tissue.
"There, there," said Melanie's mother, patting her
hand. "Can we get you a glass of water or something?" Mrs. Miller waved
her hand to reject the offer.
"What did Mrs. Mertz say?" asked Mrs. Edwards.
Mrs. Miller looked up at her. Her eyes were brimming with
tears. "They said they found the body of a little Pomeranian dog that had
a tag saying its name was Duchess, and my telephone number was on it."
"Way over on Sherwood?" Melanie said in disbelief.
"How could she have gotten way over there?"
Mrs. Miller shook her head. "They said it looked as if
she had been run over."
"Oh, my," said Melanie's mother. "Did they
give you their address?"
Mrs. Miller held up the paper she had been holding, and Mrs.
Edwards took it.
After she read it, she handed it to Melanie. "Your
father's down in the basement. Go tell him what's happened, and ask him if he'll
go get Duchess. Tell him to take a box along."
Melanie went with her father to get Duchess. When they
returned, he got a shovel, and they scraped the snow away and buried the little
box with the body in it in the corner of Mrs. Miller's backyard.
"Go get your mother and Clare," said Mr. Edwards. "We'll
show them where Duchess is buried."
Melanie did as she was told, but before she followed them
back to Mrs. Miller's yard, she ran into the family room and took a red
carnation from a vase.
When she joined the others at the small grave site, she
handed the carnation to Mrs. Miller. The older lady smiled at her and laid in
on the little mound of earth.
CHAPTER 10
"That was so sad," said Melanie at the dinner
table that night. "Mrs. Miller really took it hard."
"Yes, she did," her mother agreed. "She had
Duchess for a long time. The little dog was like a baby to her. A lot of older
people need animals as companions. They give them something to care for that
can return their affection."
"I was thinking," said Melanie. "Would it be
too soon to give her another dog?"
Her mother looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"My friends and I have
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