Mamie was weeping bitter tears of repentance, and her mother suddenly softened and caught her to her breast.
“I—I won’t be bad no more!” sobbed Mamie.
“I should hope not! An’ what d’ y’ say t’ Allan? If it hadn’t ’a’ been fer him, you’d ’a’ been ground up under th’ wheels.”
“I—I lubs him!” cried Mamie, with a very tender look at our hero.
She held up her lips, and Allan bent and kissed them.
“Well, m’ boy,” laughed Jack, as the triumphal procession moved on again toward the house, “you seem t’ have taken this family by storm, fer sure!”
“Come along!” cried Mary. “Mebbe th’ poor lad’s hurted worse’n he thinks.”
She hurried him along before her up the path, sat him down in a chair, and rolled up his trousers leg.
“It’s nothing,” protested Allan. “It’s nothing—it’s not worth worrying about.”
“Ain’t it!” retorted Mary, with compressed lips, removing shoe and sock and deftly cutting away the blood-stained underwear. “Ain’t it? You poor boy, look at that!”