Dot, hugging the Alice-doll closely, stared wonderingly at the horde of little ragamuffins that came dancing and screeching to the scene of Sammy’s disaster.
“Take him off, mister, an’ lemme get away,” cried Sammy. “I won’t never do it again.”
It was so natural for Sammy Pinkney to be blamed in whatever situation he found himself, that he offered his apologies at once. The ugly man scowled down at him.
“I’d oughter let old Dewey lam’ you good,” he growled.
“Cut the rope and let old Dewey go for ’em, Uncle Jim!” yelled one of the young savages.
At that both Tess and Dot burst into despairing wails. At the same moment Neale O’Neil and Agnes burst through the bushes, having been drawn to the spot by the uproar.
“Oh, Aggie!” shrieked Tess.
“Oh, Neale!” cried Dot.
Sammy pluckily held his tongue; but the way he looked at the bigger boy belonging to the automobile party would have touched a much stonier heart than that of Neale O’Neil.