TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
There was no answer to this outburst. No words seemed fitting, but Pat was, nevertheless, doggedly determined that this man, who had been the means of saddling them with their unwelcome burdens, should now be compelled to take them off their hands.
“Oh, Lord, no,” muttered Jim. “I jest couldn’t do it. Not for all the five dollars you could give me.”
Then followed protestations, entreaties, threats from Mr. Patterson. All to no purpose. Bateese ran happily up and down the road, playing with the dog, and Patty sat with clasped hands and parted lips awaiting the outcome. At last, when there seemed to be no possibility of getting their charges back to the orphanage, she ventured a suggestion. Jim had the address of Bateese’s father in Montreal. Why not send the child there? Jim’s face cleared like magic. But—there
