"Hasn't she any relations?" inquired Peter.
"None that I know of, sir. I didn't know much of her father—he was a gypsy and died as the result of an accident. My wife and I took the child out of pure good-nature."
"Why did you keep her without her breakfast?" questioned Tom.
"For punishment, sir," Max Sordello answered promptly; "she had disobeyed and defied my wife, and deserved to be punished. She might have had her breakfast if she would have promised to be good, but she wouldn't."
The boys were extremely puzzled. In their hearts they believed that Grace had been badly treated, but Max Sordello spoke so plausibly that they began to think it was possible that the little girl might have given trouble, and reflected that it certainly had been very kind of the lion-trainer and his wife to adopt her.
"Well, she's not hungry now," Tom said, "and I hope your wife won't be hard on her when she gets home; I know your wife is rough with her—I was in the Market Square when the row was going on between them not an hour ago."
"My wife may be a little heavy-handed, but she wouldn't hurt the child," Max Sordello answered; "she's too fond of her to do that." Then, evidently wishing to please the boys, he chirruped to Bounce, who had come out into the road and, having found the paper bag, was now eating the last crumb of its contents.
"I wouldn't advise you to interfere with him," said Tom, "he's not too good-tempered with strangers."
"No, please don't touch him!" said Peter, apprehensively.
Nevertheless, Max Sordello stooped to pat the dog; whereupon Bounce gave an angry snarl, showing every tooth in his head. Tim, who had been engaged in watching a cat in a lilac-tree in the garden, hearing the snarl, came out into the road in haste to ascertain what was going on, and was just in time to see Max Sordello beating a hasty retreat. The two dogs looked at each other; then, with one accord, they rushed after the lion-trainer and barked him out of sight.