She sat staring out the fog-obscured window. No one bothered to look back, but if they had, they would have seen only two bright blue eyes poking out, for she had wiped the window in spots where she should put her eyes, and the rest of the window remained foggy.

She had a dirty white gown that she had slept in until she woke up just a few minutes ago. She had a blanket hanging about her shoulders, and worn black slippers on her feet. Her long blonde hair--her only prized posession--hung down to her elbows. She turned from the window and sighed.

She lay back down on her scantly-feathered pillow, eyes wide open. She pulled the blanket formerly wrapped over shoulders to cover her cold body.

Her eyes stayed wide open. This morning, it seemed, she could not sleep. There really was no reason for this; it was a normal day. She closed her eyes, but they just popped open again. She tossed and turned. Eventually she sat back up and looked out the window once more, the blanket slung over her shoulders. She leaned her elbow on he windowsill and rested her chin on her hand.

She pondered about the Jensens' vacation, and they had told her to act as usual and clean the house every day. They had also told her not to sleep late while they were gone, but she had anyway for the last few weeks... and it felt wonderful.

Today was the first day in some week and a half that she had woken up before seven o'clock. Feeling she would not ne able to sleep anymore, she walked to the door of her tiny sideroom.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move just in front of the window.

Quite startled, she took slow steps back toward the window, and when her face was only a few inches away from it, something popped up.

"Boo!" he cried, and the girl screamed.

"Don't do that, Matthew!" she yeled as she regained composure and acted as if she had never really been scared.

"Oh," said Matthew, "lighten up, Sandra."

Sandra rolled her eyes and shoved the window open. Matthew climbed through and landed with a thump on the dusty wooden floor. He straightened out his shirt and grinned.

"You must come see what I've found!" he said emphatically. He beckoned her to follow him back out the window. Sandra knew she couldn't close the window from the outside, so she told him she would be right there. She went to the front door and unlucked it, went out, made sure no one was looking, pulled the key out from under the doormat and locked the door from the outside.

She ran to the side of the house which sported the window through which Matthew had climbed.

As soon as she reached him, he grabbed her hand and started running through the busy streets. He knew his way very well, the street being his home. Over the Jensens' vacation, Sandra had also learned how to glide through the streets to get somewhere, or nowhere as the case sometimes was. But the one place the road to which Sandra would never forget was the bridge.

At the edge of town was a small creek. This creek was far enough from the edge of town that it was rarely ever visited, seeing as how the circus show, the dancing monkey, and the music show had become more popular. However, Sandra and Matthew spent every afternoon on the bridge over the creek. In the evening, Sandra would go back to the Jensens' house and do chores. She found that she only had a fraction of the chores to do when they were gone, because she wouldn't have to clean their dishes, do their laundry or make their beds everyday.

Now they were running through a dimly-lit alley, filled with old garbage bags and reeking on it too. Sandra had to steady herself when Matthew stopped so abruptly. Behind him, she stepped to his side and saw that he was grinning massively. Wondering why, she looked in the direction Matthew's sparkling brown eyes were poitning and saw nothing but a pile of trash.

"What, Matthew?" she queried. "What is it?"

Just as she finished this question he ran forward and out from behind the pile of trash came the scroungiest, most torn-up exscuse for a mutt Sandra had ever seen.

Its matted fur was light brown, and it had one dark spot on its back, its left foreleg, its right eye, and its left ear, which looked as if some hungry creature had clamped on, determind not to go down without a fight. Its tail was half-chewed, and its muzzle was torn, but right away Sandra knew she loved the beast.

"What will we name it?" she asked, her hands shaking with excitement.

Matthew looked at her surprisedly. "Name it? He might belong to someone."

Sandra laughed heartily. "Do you see a tag?" she said smartly. "How could anyone own a dog as torn-up as this one?"

Matthew nodded ponderously.

"Well," he mused, "suppose he does have an owner. We--"

"Suppose he doesn't," said Sandra, almost harshly. "We keep him as a pet!"

"But where" inquired Matthew. "You can't keep him at the Jensens' house, you know that."

This brought on for Sandra a recollection of one of the many conversations held on the bridge the second day they had met. Sandra had only met Matthew the first day of the Jensens' vacation. They had gone, of course, to the bridge, and vowed to meet again the next day. When they did meet again, they played a few games, talked about silly things, and laughed for no reason until Sandra asked:

"Where's your home, Matthew?"

Matthew had looked puzzled, then replied, "You have a home with the Jensens, Sandra, because they are your masters. I don't have a master."

Sandra had thought about this, quite confused.

"How, then," she asked, "do you manage to eat and sleep as well as it would seem you do?"

He had put on a mischeivous smile.

"That--that is an especially exclusive secret!"

Sandra had turned to him anxiously, her face bursting with excitement.

"Oh, Matthew!" she exclaimed. "Tell me, oh PLEASE tell me!"

Matthew had laughed, then said in a most proper accent:

"First, you must get on one kneww."

She did this.

"Then, put your hands together--"

She did this.

"--Now, say 'Dear Matthew, I adore you so. Won't you share with me this especially exclusive secret?"

Sandra had gotten past "Dear Matthew" before they both burst out laughing. Matthew doubled over, Sandra with her face to the floor of the bridge.

This had eventually become their special game, and whenever Sandra wanted Matthew to do something she would be sure to add "Dear Matthew" to the beginning.

When their laughing fit had finsihed, they straightened up, and Matthew whispered in Sandra's ear:

"I'm a theif!"

Sandra had gasped, then begged him to elaborate."

"First, you must say 'Dear Matthew'..."

They both had started guffawing.

Then Matthew had explained to Sandra that he slept under anything he could find, and stealthily pick-pocketed anybody he passed. He had been caught only once, and was let go with a severe warning that time. Since, he had gotten so good he could get money virtually whenever he wanted.

Now, Sandra sighed with frustration, knowing Matthew was right in the fact that they would have nowhere to keep Oscar.

Oscar?

Was that what they were to name him? Sandra didn't know, but it sounded fitting.

She got on one knee and beckoned the dog over.

"Here, Oscar. Here boy," she said gently.

Matthew sighed and shook his head.

"You've already got a name for it?" he said disappointedly. "You'll get attached to him, and we won't be able to keep him."

"Surely," Sandra was determined, "there must be a way!"

So they sat and thought, and the dog sat with them, occassionaly shaking its body or scratching a flea. As they sat thinking, Samdra's thoughts began to wander.

She thought about the day she and Matthew first met. It was the first day of the Jensens' vacation. Sandra had taken advantage of her masters' absence and gone walking through town. It was her first time in town not to carry bags of things Mrs. Jensen had bought. She had taken a few coins that she had been saving; coins she had found about the house, and hadn't told anyone about. She had taken these clutched in her dirty peasent's hand. It hadn't been mutch, but she was able to buy a sweet bun and some taffy.

As she had been skipping along--for this certainly was the best day of her life--she saw a scroungy boy of about her age buying a flower from a stall in the bazaar. She had stood still and stared, thinking How could a peasent boy be able to buy a flower? But then he turned around, walked in her direction, and said "Would my lovely lady like a flower?"

Sandra had stuttered out a few words about not having any money, but he shook his head and grinned.

"All I ask in return," he had explained, "is a friend."

Sandra had giggled and taken the flower shyly, her face turning light red.

From that moment on, Sandra abd Matthew were best friends, agreeing to meet at the bridge every day as they had that day after the flower.

Except today. Today they had met at the window on the side of her small room in the Jensens' house. And perhaps that was better, for what it had led to. But all at once Sandra realized that by not meeting at the bridge today they had both broken their vows.

Sandra also realized that it was Monday: the day the Jensens were to return home.

Hopping up, she quickly explained to Matthew that she absolutely must go back to the Jensens' house immediately, and that he should find some sort of leash for Oscar.

She ran and weaved through the busy streets--much busier than earlier--and wondered how long she and Matthew had been absent.

When she got to the house, she bent over, hands on knees, panting heavily. She rached under the doormat, retrieved the key, but had no chance to unlock the door before it swung open from the inside.

Mrs. Jenses had opened the door.