“Well, hand her over here,” said Leslie; “she’s not yours.” And he took Campanula from Mac and placed her on his knee. “She’s mine. I paid ten shillings to that chap with the reed-pipe to whistle her up.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Mac.
“Well?”
“I’ll gi’ you ten shullin’ for a half share, and pay half the expeenses of her upbringing.”
“No, she’s mine; you can play with her as much as you like, but I’m going to keep her. She’s the jolliest thing I ever struck, and I’m going to stick to her. I saw that policeman Johnnie this morning, and he’s quite given up hope of finding her people. They’ve hunted everywhere. I offered him a fiver to cover the business, but he would not touch the money. He says the chief of police at Tokyo knows you.”
“Weel does he know me, seven year and more.”
“And he says there’s no objection to our taking her along to Nagasaki if you give your bond that she will be looked after, so I was thinking of starting to-morrow.”
“Wull you take her with us?”
“I was thinking of leaving her with the ‘Tortoise’ people till I settle about a place to live in at Nagasaki, and then coming back to fetch her. She’ll be all right with them, I suppose?”
“Ay, she’ll be right enough,” said Mac, and they left the gardens of Dai Nichi Do, and headed for the hostelry.