“I specs it’s Punch and Judy,” and Master Jack tugged at his mother’s hand.
“Wait, dear, wait.”
“Muvver, may I give the Toby dog a biscuit?”
“Two, Gwen, if you like.”
“I just love to see old Punch smack silly old Judy with a stick!”
“Jack, you are velly cruel,” and the little lady disassociated herself once more from all sympathy with her brother’s barbaric inclinations.
A man turned the corner of the street suddenly, cannoned two small boys aside, and hurried on with the half-scared look of one who has seen a child crushed to death under a cart. He stopped abruptly when he saw Catherine and the children, his white and resolute face glistening with sweat.
“Mrs. Murchison, take the children in—”
Catherine stared at him; it was John Reynolds, her husband’s dispenser.
“What is it—what has happened?”