Lily F. Wesselhoeft, Jack, the Fire Dog
“ THE more Toby tried to think out a plan for action, the more undecided he became, as is always the way with weak natures. The sun was now up, and the great city was stirring with life. Wagons from the outlying towns were coming into the city, shops were being opened, and sidewalks and front steps were being washed and swept. But in the midst of all this busy life not a soul had a thought for the poor little lost dog. One boy, carrying a can of milk, did stop to pat him, but he had no time to waste, and passed on. ”
