“Runnin’ over kids all de time-you lie, yer did too!”
The chauffeur looked straight ahead and uttered not a word.
“Yer’d be in jail if ’twuzn’t fer old John paying graft ter the cops!”
The chauffeur, who knew his place, made never a sign.
“Yer stinkin’ thief! Yer don’t do a thing but cop de car fer joy-rides—didn’ yer?”
At this the chauffeur stirred slightly.
“Yes, yer will!” yelled Tom, jumping down from the railing.
He had just picked up a stone, when the portly form of John Temple emerged from the door behind him.
“Put down that stone, sir, or I’ll lock you up!” said he with the air of one who is accustomed to being obeyed.
“G-wan, he called me a liar!” shouted Tom.