One day Pearl Harrod's Uncle Phil arranged to take a big party of the older girls to Shawmit, which was some miles up the river. Ruth and Agnes went along and that day they left Tom Jonah at Willowbend to take care of the smaller girls.
Ruth determined to see Mr. Reynolds, so when they reached Shawmit, she hunted up the lumberman's office. She found him in a more amiable mood than he had been on the morning he drove to Pleasant Cove to get Tom Jonah.
"Well, Miss!" he said. "How do you feel about giving up that dog?"
"Just the same, sir," said Ruth, honestly. "But I hope you will tell me who the man is you sold Tom Jonah to, so that we can go to him and buy the dog."
"Do you girls really want old Tom Jonah as much as _that_?" asked Mr. Reynolds.
"Willing to buy the old rascal? And he's nothing but a tramp."
"He's a gentleman. You said so yourself on his collar," said Ruth.
The man looked at her seriously and nodded. "I guess you think a whole lot of him, eh?"
"Well! I guess I'll have to tell you," said the man, smiling. "Old Tom evidently thinks more of you girls than he does of me. Tell you what: After I got home the other day I thought it over. I reckon Tom Jonah's chosen for himself. I paid my brother-in-law back the money he gave me for him. So you won't be bothered again about him."
"You keep him. Rather, let Tom Jonah stay as long as he wants to. But if he comes back to me I sha'n't let him go again. No! I don't want money for him. I guess the old dog likes it where he is, and his days of usefulness are pretty nearly over anyway. I'm convinced he'll have a good home with you Corner House girls."
"Just as long as he lives!" declared Ruth, fervently.
So Mr. Reynolds did not prove to be a hardhearted man, after all. Agnes and Tess and Dot were delighted. There was a regular celebration over Tom Jonah that evening after Ruth got home and told the news.
It is doubtful if Tom Jonah understood when Dot informed him that he was going to be their dog "for keeps." But he barked very intelligently and the two smaller girls were quite convinced that he understood every word that was said to him.
"Of course, he can't talk back," Tess said. "Dogs don't speak our language. But if we could understand the _barking language_, I am sure we would hear him say he was glad."