He was lounging about, waiting for something to turn up, when he felt a little hand slipped into his, and heard a small voice pleading, "Take me home. I'm lost."
Sam looked down in surprise to find his hand clasped by a little boy, apparently about four years of age. What attracted him to Sam is uncertain. Possibly his face seemed familiar to the little boy.
"What's your name, Johnny?" asked Sam, gently.
"My name aint Johnny; it's Bertie," said the little boy.
"What's your other name?"
"Dalton."
"Bertie Dalton?"
"Yes. I want to go home."
"So you shall," said Sam, good-naturedly, "if you'll tell me where you live."
"Don't you know?" asked Bertie.