TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
upon him from some hiding-place. Finding his appeal unanswered, he began to pace to and fro, gesticulating and unheeding the tears which streamed over his pale cheeks.
Patty stepped to the side of Bateese, raising his face to hers and causing it to break into its characteristic beaming smile. “There—see how he smiles. It is surely your little boy, only the clothes are different, and he was so sleepy you could not see his eyes or expression.” She looked anxiously at the distracted parent, who stopped his restless walk to exclaim,
“Ze cloes, madame! Ze cloes! You t’ink I not know mine leetle boy w’en ees cloes are change? Mon Dieu! I know heem w’en he wear everyt’ing or not’ing, an’ I say to you zis ees not mon fils. I know heem not. Nevaire before did I see heem, but a boule dog I haf seen, an’ de leetle one he was dere. A so ugly chien an’ mine leetle boy bote
