EIGHT

Stacy rang the doorbell at the first house.

A tall man came to the door. “Hey, kids, what’s in the box?” the man asked.

Jason didn’t waste any time. “Is this your dog, mister?”

The man shook his head. “Sorry,” he said and shut the door. Slam!

Just up the street from Blossom Hill Lane, they came to the next house.

“You ring, and I’ll talk,” Stacy said.

“OK,” Jason replied. “But get right to the point. People don’t wanna stand at their door on a cold night.”

She agreed. Once again, Jason was thinking of others.

When a pretty lady came to the door, Stacy asked the question. “We’re looking for this darling puppy’s owner.” She pointed to the box. “Do you know anything about him?” she asked.

The lady peeked into the box. She said, “AAAGGGHHH!” then slammed the door.

Stacy’s teeth were beginning to chatter. “How m-many m-more h-houses?” she asked.

“If you’re cold, you should go home,” Jason replied. “Muffie’s not your problem.”

They walked in silence to the next house.

“Do you feel responsible for this dog?” Stacy asked, at last.

Jason shrugged. “I’m not out here freezing my ears off for nothing.”

“I know,” she said. “I think you’re doing a wonderful thing.”

“Well . . . let’s not get carried away,” Jason shot back.

He rang the doorbell and did the talking this time.

The teenager at the door didn’t say a word. Just shook his head and closed the door.

“Is this how Mary and Joseph felt on Christmas Eve?” Jason said softly.

Stacy’s ears prickled. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Jason said quickly.

But she was pretty sure she’d heard.

Hallelujah!

One after another, they knocked on doors or rang doorbells. Nobody but nobody seemed to know anything about Muffie.

“Well, I guess he’s ours,” Stacy said.

“Ours?” Jason asked. He turned and looked at her. With a weird look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said,” she replied.

Then she had another idea. It was the perfect idea! “Maybe Muffie could be our club pet,” she suggested. “What do you think of that?”

“I think it stinks,” Jason said. “I’m gonna ask my parents if I can keep this mystery mutt.”

Mystery mutt? she thought. What a horrible name!

Yet she felt the giggles building up inside her. Stacy held them in. Jason would freak if she let them spill out. He hated giggling worse than almost anything.

“Better give Muffie a bath first,” she said. “Your mom won’t give him a chance, smelling like this.”

Jason nodded. “For once, you’re right, Stacy Henry.”

“Whatever you say,” she answered.

“Can I use your bathtub?” he asked.

“May you, don’t you mean?” Stacy was picky about speech.

Jason blinked his eyes. “Please, not an English lesson now.”

“Hey, do that again,” she said.

“Do what again?”

“Blink your eyes like Croaker, your frog,” she said.

Then the giggles came.

Jason started running. “Oh, no! I can’t stand this,” he hollered.

Stacy walked prim and proper to their street, Blossom Hill Lane. All the way, she wondered about Jason. How long before he’d pick a fruit?

She couldn’t wait for him to pick, bite, and eat the fruit of kindness. Or maybe it would be gentleness!

Whatever it ended up to be, time was running out. The New Year was almost here.

Two days left!