The girl came up to the railing and gazed anxiously through at the corner of the only back fence she could perceive.
"What a perfectly dreadful thing to happen!" she said in a voice not very steady. "It is exceedingly nice of you to help me catch Clarence. He is quite beside himself, poor lamb! You see, he has never before been in the city. I--I shall be distressed beyond m-measure if he is lost."
"He went over those fences," said Brown, breathing faster. "I think I'd better go after him."
"Oh--would you mind? I'd be so very grateful. It seems so much to ask of you."
"I'll do it," said Brown, firmly. "Every boy in New York has climbed back fences, and I'm only thirty."
"It is most kind of you; but--but I don't know whether you could possibly get him to come to you. Clarence is timid with strangers."
Brown had already clambered on to the wooden fence. He balanced himself there, astride. Whitewash liberally decorated coat and trousers.
"I see him," he said.
"W-what is he doing?"
"Squatting on a trellis three back yards away." And Brown lifted a blandishing voice: "Here, Clarence--Clarence--Clarence! Here, kitty-- kitty--kitty! Good pussy! Nice Clarence!"