TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
his petit garçon and his own subsequent anguish. He was silenced by a peremptory command from the desk to “look about him” and see if he recognized any of those present. As the man’s eyes travelled slowly around the room Pat and Patty held their breath in suspense. They were the first to stand the fire of his inspection. He scanned their faces carefully, but his expression underwent no change; evidently their features were not familiar; Mr. Burns he passed over with a careless glance, seemed puzzled at the tearful whiteness of Mrs. Trent’s countenance and slightly interested in the sharp eagerness of that of Josephine. Then his eyes reached Bateese and paused. Only the tapping of the captain’s pencil on his desk broke the tense stillness. The man stood gazing with dumb stupidity from the small boy to the bull dog, back to the boy again. Where was the joyful outcry?
