“Lemme go!” shuddered Hedrick.  “Lemme go!”

“Kiss me again, darl——­”

“I—­woof!” He became inarticulate.

“She isn’t quite right,” his sister whispered hurriedly in his ear.  “She has spells when she’s weak mentally.  You must be kind to her.  She only wants you to——­”

“`_Only_’!” he echoed hoarsely.  “I won’t ki——­” He was unable to finish the word.

“We must get her home,” said Laura anxiously.  “Will you come with me, Lolita, dear?”

Apparently Lolita had no consciousness whatever of Laura’s presence.  Instead of replying, she tightened her grasp upon Hedrick and warmly reiterated her request.

“Shut up, you parrot!” hissed the goaded boy.

“Perhaps she’ll go if you let her walk with her arms round your neck,” suggested Laura.

“If I what?”

“Let’s try it.  We’ve got to get her home; her mother must be frantic about her.  Come, let’s see if she’ll go with us that way.”

With convincing earnestness, Hedrick refused to make the experiment until Laura suggested that he remain with Lolita while she summoned assistance; then, as no alternative appeared, his spirit broke utterly, and he consented to the trial, stipulating with a last burst of vehemence that the progress of the unthinkable pageant should be through the alley.

“Come, Lolita,” said Laura coaxingly.  “We’re going for a nice walk.”  At the adjective, Hedrick’s burdened shoulders were racked with a brief spasm, which recurred as his sister added:  “Your darling little boy will let you keep hold of him.”

Lolita seemed content.  Laughing gayly, she offered no opposition, but, maintaining her embrace with both arms and walking somewhat sidewise, went willingly enough; and the three slowly crossed the yard, passed through the empty stable and out into the alley.  When they reached the cross-street at the alley’s upper end, Hedrick balked flatly.

Laura expostulated, then entreated.  Hedrick refused with sincere loathing to be seen upon the street occupying his present position in the group.  Laura assured him that there was no one to see; he replied that the moon was bright and the evening early; he would die, and readily, but he would not set foot in the street.  Unfortunately, he had selected an unfavourable spot for argument:  they were already within a yard or two of the street; and a strange boy, passing, stopped and observed, and whistled discourteously.

“Ain’t he the spooner!” remarked this unknown with hideous admiration.

“I’ll thank you,” returned Hedrick haughtily, “to go on about your own business.”

“Kiss me some more, darling little boy!” said Lolita.

The strange boy squawked, wailed, screamed with laughter, howled the loving petition in a dozen keys of mockery, while Hedrick writhed and Lolita clung.  Enriched by a new and great experience, the torturer trotted on, leaving viperish cachinnations in his wake.