THE LITTLE GOD AND DICKY
“Where are you going?” said somebody, as he slunk out toward the hatrack.
“He turned like a stag at bay.”
“Oh, out,” he returned, with what a vaudeville artist would call a good imitation of a person wishing to appear blamelessly forgetful of something he remembered quite distinctly.
“Well, see that you don’t stay long. Remember what it is this afternoon.”
He turned like a stag at bay.
“What is it this afternoon?” he demanded viciously.
“You know very well.”
“What?”