TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
mother to either of the stray-aways, presenting a plump girl of eleven with sausage curls as her only effort in the maternal line. The cabman was dejected but persistent, and urged her “to knock up her thinker an’ see if she couldn’t place ’em as hers,” and on this being received with indignation he suggested she might like to “adopt ’em for company.” Here the door was slammed violently in his face, leaving him to return with scowling countenance to Josephine, who was just then happily engaged in sticking out her tongue at plump little Miss Blundell.
“I know what I’ll do with youse now, my lady,” he said, darkly, as he climbed to his post and drove off with decision. His purpose became apparent when he drew up before a police station and ordered his fares to descend. “Instanter—and haul out that pup. I ain’t going to touch him.”
