“Wheer’s dat present dat youse promised me?”
“I did not have time this morning to get something especially for you,” she explained, handing him the portrait, “so for want of anything better, I’ve brought you my picture.”
The urchin took the gift and looked at both sides. “Wotinell’s dat good for?” he demanded contemptuously.
“I thought—hoped it might please you, as showing you that I had forgiven—that I liked you.”
“Ah, git on de floor an’ look at youseself,” disgustedly remarked Swot. “Dat talk don’t cut no ice wid me. W’y didn’t youse ask wot Ise wants?”
“And what would you like?”
“Will youse guv me a pistol?”
“Why, what would you do with it?”
“I’d trow a scare into de big newsies w’en dey starts to chase me off de good beats.”
“Really, Swot, I don’t think I ought to give you anything so dangerous. You are very young to—”