And she tips me a smile like a hangel and 'olds out 'er hand—in 'er white glove and all—and yer know what my 'ands is like, matey."
"Yes," said Dickie, "go on."
"And she just touched me 'and and walks across me coat. And the people laughed and clapped—silly apes! And the gent 'e tipped me a thick un, and I spotted the pups a month ago, and I knew I could have 'em for five bob, so I got 'em. And I'll sell 'em for thrible the money, you see if I don't. An' I thought you'd be as pleased as pleased—me actin' so silly, like as if I was one of them yarns o' yourn an' all. And then first minute I gets 'ere, you sets on to me. But that's always the way."
"Please, please forgive me, father," said Dickie, very much ashamed of himself; "I am so sorry. And it was nice of you and I am pleased—and I do love the pups—and we won't sell all three, will us? I would so like to have one. I'd call it 'True.' One of the dogs in my dream was called that. You do forgive me, don't you, father?"
"Oh! that's all right," said Beale.
Next day again a little boy worked alone in a wood, and yet not alone, for a small pup sprawled and yapped and scrapped and grunted round him as he worked. No squirrels or birds came that day to lighten Dickie's solitude, but True was more to him than many birds or squirrels. A woman they had overtaken on the road had given him a bit of blue ribbon for the puppy's neck, in return for the lift which Mr.
