“I will go,” agreed Joseph solemnly. “Will I to bring them here?”
“Oh, no!” cried Blue. “Just leave ’em at the office, and say I’ll call for ’em. I’ll be no end obliged.”
“A’ right,” assented the other, and trotted away.
You could always trust Joseph, and Blue at once centered his thoughts on the disagreeable duty at hand. What if they should see him coming and shouldn’t let him in? What if Mame’s big brother were at home! What if—but, pshaw! there was no need of what-if-ing in this way. It was going to be an easy job; all he had to do was to walk in quietly, grab the bird, and run. Once he had the cage in his hands there’d be nothing to fear,—no Sweeney could beat him in a race. And if there should be any real opposition, wasn’t he in good fighting order? Didn’t he whip a fellow of fifteen this very morning for teasing a little clubfooted boy! Recollecting that pleasant affair made him feel equal to any possible contest with Sweeneys big or little.
Up in the hallway of the new brick block he looked around questioningly. Then he risked the first bell at his right. A small girl opened the door.
“Does Mame Sweeney live here?” he asked in a soft tone.
The child pointed directly across the hall, and, thanking her, Blue walked over and pushed the button indicated.
Mame herself answered the summons; but with her first glimpse of the caller she attempted to shut the door. Blue, however, was ready, and throwing himself against it pushed into the room.
The girl, glowering, darted to the opposite side of the apartment.
“That’s yer manners, is it?” she jeered. “Yer needn’t think ye’re goin’ ter git that bird ag’in!”