“Thick un?” said Jack, and the boy nodded. “And didn’t nobody stop him?”
“Yes,” said the little fellow quickly. “Aunt did.”
“Who’s aunt?” said Jack, sharply.
“Why, my aunt. She said it was a shame.”
“Ha! I like her,” said Jack, and he rubbed his hands. “But what did he beat you for?”
“He said I was always crying,” said the boy, piteously. “But I couldn’t help it.”
“Course you couldn’t,” said Jack, softly. “You cried a-cause o’ them being took away, didn’t you?”
The boy nodded sharply—he did not dare to speak.
“Ha!” sighed Jack Jeens, as he rubbed his hands softly together. “I wish I’d been there. But I say, look here. And so you run away because he whipped you?”
The boy nodded.