“Who is it?”
“Cracker, the ex-newspaper boy. He is so bad, and has nothing to do, so I got him a bicycle. The avenue is his favorite riding place.”
“Good,” remarked Barry, in a low voice. “And he’ll delight in watching some one worse than himself. Can you trust him, though?”
“Yes, I have means to bind him, and he really seems attached to me. I have him sleeping in this house now. He was so dreadful that no one would take him. His grandfather’s life was worried out of him. He is on very good behavior now, for he likes to be here.”
“Well, try him, and now, to catch these fellows red-handed, we’ve got to be mighty careful, for they are as shy as wild ducks and as clever as foxes.”
“Hello!” said a hearty voice, “whom have you got here, Berty? O, meow, meow, as baby says when he sees Barry. How do you do, Mafferty?” and Mrs. Everest’s happy-looking young husband strode into the room.
“Bonny is in the hall,” he said to his wife, “looking for the best place to show off his fine new spring hat—for spring is coming, Mafferty. Do the pussies tell you that?”
“You know my brother Boniface,” said Mrs. Everest, under her breath, to her caller. “Let us tell him, too. He is very discreet.”
Barry nodded, and presently the three young people and the middle-aged man were all seated in a corner of the parlor talking in low tones of the best plan to be adopted to safeguard the rights of the little child and to punish the guilty unfortunates who wished to invade them.