"Taken the stylish Vivian Riker to your heart," teased Ruth. "She's a beauty." There was a stir outside. "Look who's here!" interrupted Nancy, jumping up and hurrying toward the door. "Ted! And he's got the threatened new dog with him. Come and see!" The threatened new dog was indeed being coaxed along by Ted, but he didn't look exactly new. In fact, his coat was matted and shaggy, his tail hung down without a bit of "pep" in it, and even his long, long-haired ears seemed too discouraged to pick up the kindest words Ted was trying to pour into them. "Nero!" announced Ted simply, as Nancy opened the door and Ted tried to push the melancholy Nero in. "What ails him?" Nancy asked, looking the strange animal over, critically. "Just nothin' but lonesome," replied the small boy cryptically. "He looks pretty--blue," Ruth commented, giving the dog a friendly but unappreciated pat on his shaggy head. "Guess you'd be blue too, if you lived where he did," Ted told Ruth. "That poor dog hadn't a friend in the world until I found him. Here, Nero, come along and eat," ordered Ted, while Nero followed him toward the back door through the erstwhile Whatnot Shop and present-time classroom. "He's a fine dog," the little fellow continued to praise, "and when I get him all fixed up he'll be a beauty too," he insisted stoutly. "Maybe," Nancy almost giggled as she looked after Ted and his dog. "But when you take him to the beauty shop, Ted, you better get him a real Russian bob, his hair is long enough to braid," she commented gaily. "You can laugh," Ted retorted, "but he's a thoroughbred--a one-man dog. He won't notice you girls. Come on Nero, attaboy," chanted Ted, importantly. But being cooks, Nancy and Ruth could do no less than offer to provide Nero's meal. Each thought he would like something else best, and each tried the other dish, pushing it under his indifferent nose and coaxing him with: "Here Nero! Good! Eat! Eat-er-up!" etc. But Nero merely sniffed disdainfully, snuggled his nose deeper into his flattened paws, and turned two big, brown adoring eyes up at his young master. "Pity about him!" quoth Nancy. "Maybe he wants some of Isabel's Cherry Moss. Just stew or beefsteak or even fried potatoes are not, it seems, on his diet bill." They were all out on the back porch, Ted squatted squarely beside the new dog, while the girls floated around Nero, like little tugs surrounding a big steamer. "He doesn't _have_ to eat," Ted remarked indifferently, "he had a free lunch on the way over." "He did!" screeched Nancy. "And you let us go to all this trouble!" She kicked the tin pan of water over in sheer disgust. "Well, I thought he might like something else," murmured the small boy, provokingly. "He only had a big soup bone and loaf of bread." Taking off their cooking-school caps and unbuttoning their aprons as they went, the girls wended their way back to the deserted class room.