“Ca-ca-catch the dishes, some one,” wailed Higby. “O! law-law-law me! There they go!”
There was a terrible clatter of falling china, and then Higby’s voice rose higher and shriller than ever.
“H-h-he’s got m-m-me by the leg. O! O! O! he’s a-rippin’ me! Help, I say, help!”
The boys dashed valiantly down the stairway. Brick caught the dog by the neck. Higby, true to his habit of backing when agonizing for words, promptly stepped out behind, and fell in a heap on Brick, Bylow, and the broken china. Titus and Dallas, nearly choking with laughter, wrestled with the man, dog, and colored boy to get them on their feet, while Mrs. Blodgett and the maids rushed from the kitchen and stood with horror-stricken faces.
“Boys,” said the Judge’s voice from the top of the stairway, “boys!” and his voice brought calm to the situation.
“Yes, sir,” gasped Titus, who was manfully placing Higby against the wall and holding him there.
“Take the colored boy to the stable,” pursued the Judge, “and get him to lock up that dog.”
“Yes, sir—yes, sir,” replied Titus; then he added, in an undertone, “Hush up, Higby.”
“I ca-ca-can’t hush up,” whined Higby. “Look at my pa-pa-pants. Torn an’ hang-hang-hangin’ like a woman’s skirt. An’ them gir-gir-girls a-laughin’!”
It was, alas! too true! Finding that Higby was not hurt, and that his assailant was only a mischievous, medium-sized dog with his tongue lolling good-naturedly from his mouth, and that the china broken was not the best in the house, the maids were laughing heartily.