"Who's Bud M'Ginnis?"

"Say," exclaimed the boy, staring, "don't yer know that? Why, Bud's
d' main squeeze with d' gang, d' whole cheese, he is--an' he kind o'
thinks I'm d' candy-kid 'cause he's stuck on me sister--".

"Ah!" nodded Mr. Ravenslee, frowning a little, "and is she--er--stuck on
him?"

"Not so as you could notice it, she ain't! No, she can't see Bud with a
pair of opry-glasses, an' he's a dead game sport, too! Oh, there ain't
no flies on Bud, an' nobody can lick him, either; but Hermy don't cotton
none, she hasn't got no use for him, see? But say--" Spike rose
tentatively and looked on his captor with eyes big and supplicating.

"Well, what now?"

"Why, I thought if you was tired of me chewing d' rag and wanted to hit
the feathers, I'd just cop a sneak. See, if you'll only lemme go, I'll
do d' square thing and get a steady job like Hermy wants me to--honest,
I will, sir! Y' see, me sister's away to-night--she does needleworks for
swell folks an' stops with 'em sometimes--so if you'll only let me beat
it, I can skin back an' she'll never know! Ah!--lemme go, sir!"

"Well then," sighed Mr. Ravenslee, "for her sake I will let you
go--wait! I'll let you go and never speak of your--er--little escapade
here, if you will take me with you."

Now at this, Spike gaped and fell back a step.