and remained at home. When he could endure it no longer, he fled again; but this time, to escape the New York police, he went tramping; and Hudson Street heard no more of him.
Barney’s manner accepted such a father as a natural fact of life, without any emotional embellishment or indignant comment. The woman put down her sewing, and poured him another cup of tea, and eyed him in silent pity. She was a capable-looking young housewife, of a prettily maternal aspect; and Barney’s face and hands needed washing.
The man showed his sympathy by asking: “What do you intend to do? How do you expect to make a living?”
“Search me,” Barney said. “I ’ll strike a town somewhere, an’ sell papers, er shine shoes, I guess.”
The collie dog sat watching him distrustfully, until he shared a slice of bread with it. He did so with the secret thought that he would have to “get next” to that dog if he was to do any sleuthing on the premises; hut he was
