“Peter Lane! Peter!” she called, but Peter had hurried away. Buddy raised his head suddenly and looked up into Mrs. Potter's face.
“I know who you are,” he said fearlessly. “You 're Aunt Jane.”
“No, child,” said Mrs. Potter, “I ain't anybody's aunt. I'm just a worthless old creature.”
“Where's Uncle Peter?” asked Buddy in his sudden way.
“Now, don't you worry,” said Mrs. Potter. “Uncle Peter has gone away.”
“I know,” said Buddy, now wide awake. “Uncle Peter told me. I want to get down.” Mrs. Potter put him down and he stood leaning against her knee, holding tightly to her skirt and eyeing Mr. Briggles distrustfully, for his quick eyes recognized the “old kazoozer” Uncle Booge had thrown off the boat, but before he could give utterance to what was running through his small head, the office door opened and George Rapp and the deputy came out. Rapp walked up to Mr. Briggles.
“All right,” he said roughly. “You've got the kid, I see, and I guess that's all you want in my stable, so you pick him up and get out of here, and don't you ever come here again. Do you understand that? If you do, I'm going to show you how I treat skunks. Y' understand?”
Involuntarily Mr. Briggles put up his elbow as if to ward off a blow, and Buddy clung the tighter to Mrs. Potter's skirt. The ex-minister reached out his hand for the child, and Buddy turned and ran.
Mr. Briggles did not run after him. He stood staring at the child. “I don't want that boy,” he said. “I don't want him. I couldn't do anything with that boy. He's a cripple!”
Buddy, stopping at the head of the incline, gazed, wide-eyed from one to the other.