TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
His listener was grinning delightedly when Ella broke in.
“Cut it out, Abe, cut it out! It’s Ted Burns. He’s on to de racket good an’ plenty. Well, (turning defiantly to the detective), wat are you goin’ to do about it? We ain’t hurt de kids none. Dey come up to me so tame dey eat out of me hand inside of fifteen minutes. De boy’s so full of cake he can’t hardly move, an’ de goyle tinks she’s de star of de Metropolitan drawin’ a tousand dollars a night—Wat’s wrong?”
“Why don’t you teach yer dinky husband to quit lying?” asked Mr. Burns. “He don’t do it artistic an’ he ain’t like you. He can’t see when the truth is goin’ to be best fer his health.” He rose lazily and laughed. “Oh, well, Ella, old girl, considering you’ve put me on to one or two little things in your time, I ain’t goin’ to git malicious. The kids is
