"They're tore awful, too. That's what you
get for playin' onto back fences. Y'orter be ashamed."
Brown feigned unconsciousness and folded his arms with dignity; but the
next moment he straightened up, quivering.
"You young devil!" he said; "if you pull that slingshot again I'll come
over there and destroy you!"
At the same moment above the fence line down the block a white straw hat
appeared; then a youthful face becomingly flushed; then two dainty,
gloved hands grasping the top of the fence.
"I am here," she called across to him.
The small boy, who had climbed to the top of his fence, immediately
joined the conversation:
"Your girl's a winner, mister," he observed, critically.
"Are you going to keep quiet?" demanded Brown, starting across the fence.
"Sure," said the small boy, carelessly.
And, settling down on his lofty perch of observation, he began singing:
_"Lum' me an' the woild is mi-on._"
The girl's cheeks became pinker; she looked at the small boy appealingly.
"Little boy," she said, "if you'll run away somewhere I'll give you ten
cents."
"No," said the terror, "I want to see him an' you catch that cat."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," suggested Brown, inspired. "I'll give you a
dollar if you'll help us catch the cat."
"You're on!" said the boy, briskly. "What'll I do? Touch her up with this
bean-shooter?"
"No; put that thing into your pocket!" exclaimed Brown, sharply.
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