TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
An hour later, Pat and Patty stood on the platform of a flag station watching a departing train. From the window of the last car was thrust a small tearful face surmounted by a mop of black hair. Patty kissed her hand frantically after the swiftly receding vision, then with a little sound half laugh, half sob, she turned and ran back to the carriage.
THE END.
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