"Over on the other street by the coalyard."
"And what game were you playing in all these different streets?" demanded the inquisitor who was now showing signs of irritation.
"Oh, different games. First we'd play one game awhile, and then another—"
"You weren't playing sewer inspector, were you?"
"No, sir," muttered the boy as he made a mental note of two games he had never tried, but would at the first opportunity.
"Haven't you any idea where you got into this unspeakable effluvium?" demanded his father with ill-restrained petulance.
"No, sir; not unless I might of got it up by the church. I was playin' round up there part of the time, and I noticed some'pm smelled kind o' funny, but I couldn't find out—"
"All right. Go on. Get the stuff off from you if you can—but don't come in here again to-night!"
Sube moved on to the bathroom, where he found that his mother had drawn a bowl of hot water into which she had put a generous quantity of ammonia and a scrubbing-brush. But after superintending the operation for a short time from a point over near the window, she retired, leaving Sube to his own devices. As soon as she was gone he let out the ammonia water on the ground that it interfered with his breathing, and hurriedly rinsing his hands in plain cold water wiped them on the bath mat (as his father afterward discovered) and slipped down the back stairs to rejoin his companions in the yard for a good ol' game of rat tail.