“Don’t touch my dog!” she said. “He doesn’t like you, either!”

“Oh, but he does,” said Jo, surprisingly. “All dogs like me. So do cats. I can make your dog come to me as easy as anything.”

“Try!” said George, scornfully. “He won’t go to you! Will you, Tim?”

Jo didn’t move. She began to make a queer little whining noise down in her throat, like a forlorn puppy. Timmy pricked up his ears at once. He looked inquiringly at Jo. Jo stopped making the noise and held out her hand.

Timmy looked at it and turned away — but when he heard the whining again he got up, listening. He stared intently at Jo. Was this a kind of dog-girl, that she could so well speak his language?

Jo flung herself on her face and went on with the small, whining noises that sounded as if she were a small dog in pain or sorrow. Timmy walked over to her and sat down, his head on one side, puzzled. Then he suddenly bent down and licked the girl’s half-hidden face. She sat up at once and put her arms round Timmy’s neck.

“Come here, Timmy,” said George, jealously. Timmy shook off the brown arms that held him and walked over to George at once.

Jo laughed.

“See? I made him come to me and give me one of his best licks! I can do that to any dog.”

“How can you?” asked Dick, in wonder. He had never seen Timmy make friends before with anyone who was disliked by George.

“I don’t know, really,” said Jo, pushing back her hair again, as she sat up. “I reckon it’s in the family. My mother was in a circus, and she trained dogs for the ring. We had dozens — lovely they were. I loved them all.”

“Where is your mother?” asked Julian. “Is she still in the circus?”

“No. She died,” said Jo, “And I left the circus with my Dad. We’ve got a caravan. Dad was an acrobat till he hurt his foot.”

The four children remembered how the man had dragged his foot as he walked. They looked silently at dirty little Jo. What a strange life she must have led!

“She’s dirty, she’s probably very good at telling lies and thieving, but she’s got pluck,” thought Julian. “Still, I’ll be glad when she goes.”

“I wish I hadn’t given her that awful bruise,” thought Dick. “I wonder what she’d be like cleaned up and brushed? She looks as if a little kindness would do her good.”

“I’m sorry for her, but I don’t much like her,” thought Anne.

“I don’t believe a word she says!” thought George angrily. “Not one word! She’s a humbug. And I’m ashamed of Timmy for going to her. I feel very cross with him.”

“Where’s your father?” asked Julian at last.

“Gone off somewhere to meet somebody,” said Jo vaguely. “I’m glad. He was in one of his tempers this morning. I went and hid under the caravan.”