"What about the dog?"
"He could 'ave some soothin' syrup, too. 'Elp him with his teethin'."
The tout turned his back with a somewhat unnecessary regard for decency, produced a bank-note and flourished it.
"What's that?" asked Monkey.
"Little bit o' crumpled paper."
"Let's see it."
"You may smell it. Only don't touch."
"Will it drop to pieces?"
Joses swept away the other's appropriating hand.
"Might burn your fingers," he said. "That's what I'm thinking of. That's to buy you a bottle of Mother Siegel's soothing syrup. There's only one thing," he went on, brandishing the note in the moon. "Looks a wistful little thing, don't you think? That's because he's lonely. He's left four little brothers and sisters same as himself at home. And he's pining for 'em to join him. And join him they will to-morrow night—if you'll let me in to his loose-box."