that, Lonely!" warned his mother, as she took up her brush once more.
"Well, I think it's—it's rotten, I can't have a taste o' candy now and then!" he almost howled, in irate indignation.
The two visitors withdrew, breathlessly. The revelation had come. Lonely O'Malley was a cheat, an impostor, a make-believe! The little bell over the door had scarcely grown still, once more, before the news spread up and down the street like wild-fire.
Two hours later a youthful Cæsar stepped pompously forth from the Forum, unconscious of the awaiting assassin's blow. He was rubbing his stomach gleefully, and smacking his lips with unspeakable gusto.
"Gee, that new maple-sugar is good!" he declared, with a wag of the head.
A shrill and hostile jeer went up from the once loyal and fawning circle.
Lonely turned to Annie Eliza, puzzled. That young lady, with a face very much besmeared and gummy, thrust forward her chin, distorted her sugar-coated pink cheeks, and stuck out a defiant, contemptuous, and snake-like tongue at him.
