The man walked up to Jim. “Say, did yer see a kid go by here, Mister?”
With a shrug of his shoulders, Jim asked him that question in Mr. Ollendorf’s French method, about the pink-and-green overcoat of the shoemaker’s wife’s sister.
The man showered low abuse on what he supposed was a foreigner, until Jim’s ribs rose with the desire to kill him.
“Ayr, wot are yer wastin’ time wid th’ Dago fur?” called the woman. “Th’ kid’s on the roof!” Jim’s heart almost stopped, so thoroughly had he identified himself with this quarrel. He made up his mind to fight for the boy, right or wrong.
But he was saved the trouble. It was only a jest of the woman’s, for she suddenly called, so earnestly that even Jim was fooled. “No he ain’t neither; I see him! I see him! There he is.” It was the perfection of acting, voice and gesture.
The man ran out to see where she was pointing. “Where is he?” he asked, looking wildly around.
“On top der flag-pole, like er monkey! You’re it!” she cried, with a shriek of laughter at the black brows of her dupe.
“I’ll show yer der joke, when I git in dere!” he threatened.
The woman leaned her chin on her hands and smiled. Jim never forgot the utter undauntedness, impudence and malice of that face. “Yer allus goin’ to do sumpin’, Pete!” she retorted. “Yer’ll be a man yet.”
A more amiable man than “Pete” might have been provoked by such conduct. He strode forward with white-knuckled fists and a very unpleasant expression on his face. Several men started to interfere, but it wasn’t necessary.