"The Tenderhearted Oysterman."
"The mean hound!"
"He heerd me say somethin' agin him when I was speakin' to you, Milly, so he took it out of me by pizenin' the dawg. But I'll be even with him!"
By this time Milly had undressed Little Peter, and placed him in the bed by the side of her baby.
"There!" she said. "He'll be all right to-morrow. I'll make him some gruel presently. He's got a bad cold, and wants keeping warm."
"You're a good sort, Milly," said Grif, gratefully. "I'd have carried him to the horspital, but I didn't think they'd take him in."
"No; they wouldn't take him there without a ticket, and where could you have got that from?"
"Blest if I know!" exclaimed Grif. "Nobody would give me a ticket, I shouldn't think!" This remark was made by Grif in a tone sufficiently indicative of his sense of his abasement.
"But I say, Milly," he continued, "I didn't know you had a baby. May I look at him?"
"It's a little girl," said Milly, smiling, leading Grif towards the bed, and turning down the coverlid so that he might get a peep of baby's face. "Isn't she a beauty?"