“You’ve got off easy,” observed Mrs. Slawson benevolently.  “If you’d been my boy Sammy, you’d a got about twict as much an’ three times as thora.  As it is, I just kinder favored you—­give you a lick an’ a promise, as you might say, seein’ it’s you and you ain’t used to it—­yet.  Besides, I reely like you, an’ want you to be a good boy.  But, if you should need any more at any other time, why, you can take it from me, I keep my hand in on Sammy, an’ practice makes perfect.”

She released the two small, trembling hands, rose to her feet, and made as if to leave the room.  Then for the first time Radcliffe spoke.

“S-say,” he breathed with difficulty, “s-say—­are you—­are you goin’ to t-tell?”

Martha paused, regarding him and his question with due concern.  “Tell?”

“Are y-you going to—­t-tell on me, t-to ev-everybody?  Are y-you going to t-tell—­S-Sammy?”

“Shoor I’m not!  I’m a perfect lady!  I always keep such little affairs with my gen’lemen friends strickly confidential.  Besides—­Sammy has troubles of his own.”

CHAPTER V

All that day, Martha held herself in readiness to answer at headquarters for what she had done.

“He’ll shoor tell his mother, the young villyan,” said Eliza.  “An’ then it’ll be Mrs. Slawson for the grand bounce.”

But Mrs. Slawson did not worry.  She went about her work as usual, and when, in the course of her travels, she met Radcliffe, she greeted him as if nothing had happened.

“Say, did you know that Sammy has a dog?”

No answer.

“It’s a funny kind o’ dog.  If you begged your head off, I’d never tell you where he come from.”

“Where did he come from?”

“Didn’t you hear me say I’d never tell you?  I do’ know.  He just picked Sammy’s father up on the street, an’ follered him home, for all the world the same’s he’d been a Christian.”

“What kind of dog is he?”

“Cur-dog.”

“What kind’s that?”

“Well, a full-blooded cur-dog is somethin’ rare in these parts.  You wouldn’t find him at an ordinary dog-show, like your mother goes to.  Now, Sammy’s dog is full-blooded—­leastways, he will be, when he’s fed up.”

“My mother’s dog is a pedigree-dog.  Is Sammy’s that kind?”

“I ain’t ast him, but I shouldn’t wonder.”

“My mother’s got a paper tells all about where Fifi came from.  It’s in a frame.”

“Fifi is?”

“No, the paper is.  The paper says Fifi is out of a deller, sired by
Star.  I heard her read it off to a lady that came to see her one day. 
Say, Martha, what’s a deller?”

“I do’ know.”

“Fifi has awful long ears.  What kind of ears has Sammy’s dog got?”