"Hands off, if you please!" remarked Miss Beswick, with frightfully gleaming courtesy. "I told him, if he'd be a good boy, and come along with Richard, and tell the truth, he shouldn't be hurt. If you please," she repeated, with a majestic nod; and Mrs. Ducklow took her hands off.
"Where are they now? where are they?" cried Ducklow, rushing headlong to the main question.
"Don't know," said Taddy.
"Don't know? you villain!" And Ducklow was rising in wrath. But Miss Beswick put up her hand deprecatingly.
"If you please!" she said, with grim civility; and Ducklow sank down again.
"What did you do with 'em? what did you want of 'em?" said Mrs. Ducklow, with difficulty restraining an impulse to wring his neck.
"To cover my kite," confessed the miserable Taddy.
"Cover your kite! your kite!" A chorus of groans from the Ducklows. "Didn't you know no better?"
"Didn't think you'd care," said Taddy. "I had some newspapers Dick give me to cover it; but I thought them things 'u'd be pootier. So I took 'em, and put the newspapers in the wrapper."
"Did ye cover yer kite?"