"Now
climb across to Sixty-fourth Street and stand by that iron railing so
that the cat can't bolt out into the street, and," he added, wrapping a
dollar bill around a rusty nail and tossing it across the fence, "here's
what's coming to you."
The small boy scrambled over nimbly, ran squirrel-like across the
transverse fence, dipped, swarmed over the iron railing and stood on
guard.
"Say, mister," he said, "if the cat starts this way you and your girl
start a hollerin' like----"
"All right," interrupted Brown, and turned toward the vision of
loveliness and distress which was now standing on the top of her own back
fence holding fast to a wistaria trellis and flattering Clarence with low
and honeyed appeals.
The cat, however, was either too stupid or too confused to respond; he
gazed blankly at his mistress, and when Brown began furtively edging his
way toward him Clarence arose, stood a second in alert indecision, then
began to back away.
"We've got him between us!" called out Brown. "If you'll stand ready to
seize him when I drive him----"
There was a wild scurry, a rush, a leap, frantic clawing for foothold.
"Now, Miss Betty! Quick!" cried Brown. "Don't let him pass you."
She spread her skirts, but the shameless Clarence rushed headlong between
the most delicately ornamental pair of ankles in Manhattan.
"Oh-h!" cried the girl in soft despair, and made a futile clutch; but she
could not arrest the flight of Clarence, she merely upset him, turning
him for an instant into a furry pinwheel, whirling through mid-air,
landing in her yard, rebounding like a rubber ball, and disappearing,
with one flying leap, into a narrow opening in the basement masonry.
Pages:
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106