"I ain't tellin' ye where he be now, Lem." Scraggy's tone was sulky.
"Why?"
"'Cause I'll go and get him. I'll bring him to the scow lessen—lessen—"
"Lessen what?" cried Lem darkly.
"Lessen a month," replied Scraggy, "and ye'll kiss the brat, and he'll call ye 'Daddy,' and he'll love ye like I do, Lemmy dear."
Lem was rigid, as the woman smoothed down his shaggy gray hair and patted his hard face. Suddenly he started to his feet.
"Ye say, Scraggy, that ye'll bring the boy lessen a month?"
"Yep, lessen a month. And, Lemmy, he be a beautiful baby! Ye'll love him, will ye, Lemmy?"
"Yep. And now ye take yer cat, Screechy, and get back to bed, and when ye get the boy bring him to the scow." He hesitated a moment; then said, "Ye don't know, do ye, where Flea and Flukey run to?"
Scraggy's face dropped.