“What shall I do?” she whispered as she turned toward home. “I haven’t a dollar in the world, and poor Dollie is ill and suffering.” It was almost dark, still Marion walked along slowly. She had been so far that day that she felt lame and weary. As she reached Union Square she started through the park, hoping that a glimpse of the grass and trees would rest her a little. It was the middle of September, and the fountain, was still playing. There were people on all the benches and the walks were swarming with children. Suddenly Marion saw a sight that made her blood boil with anger. She stood still staring for a moment, hardly able to believe it. Some big boys had found a poor little yellow dog, and were amusing themselves by throwing it into the basin of the fountain and then letting it swim out, only to compel it to repeat the operation. The dog was trembling with fear and looked utterly wretched, and Marion noticed that it was lame and limping. In an instant she was in the very midst of the group of urchins, her fair face ablaze with indignation. “Shame on you, boys, for tormenting the poor dog,” she said, sternly. “Can’t you see that it is lame, and sick, and frightened? How would you like to be thrown into the fountain yourselves? Do let the poor thing go and don’t be so cruel.” “Aw, come off your perch,” said one of the biggest boys, saucily, as he made a grab for the dog, just as it clambered up over the basin. “Don’t you dare do that again,” cried Marion, who was now furious. The boy grinned in her face as he caught the dog and threw it with all his might into the very centre of the fountain. What followed was a surprise to every occupant of the benches, and as for the boys, their eyes almost popped out of their heads in wonder. As quick as a flash Marion caught the big boy by the collar. Her grip was like iron, for she was in deadly earnest. The next second she had lifted him completely off his feet, and with a terrific effort, flung him head first into the water. Then catching up the poor little dog, all dripping, in her arms, she started for the street, as if nothing had happened. A roar of delight went up from every spectator of the scene, and as for the boys, they jeered and laughed at their companion, shouting their approval of Marion’s skill in the regular street gamin manner. “That was well done, miss,” said a big policeman, who had overtaken Marion as she was leaving the park. “I was up at the other end, or I’d have put a stop to their capers, but you did just right.” He was shaking with laughter. “What can I do with the dog, so they won’t get it again?” asked Marion, who was still scarlet with indignation. The officer turned around and beckoned to a good-natured but seedily dressed man. “Here, Bill, take this dog over to the society’s rooms,” he said shortly, “and there’s a quarter to pay you for your trouble.”