TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
de han’ an’ I cry on de eye an’ he say bèbè! an’ I ponch wan more tam—me—an’ we go to fall ’roun’ an’ den Jo’sphine she ponch aussi an’ I ron’ ’ere.”
“I stuck up for yer. Didn’t I, Bateese?” cried Josephine eagerly. “I whaled that carrot-head good an’ hard, —Didn’t I, Bateese?”
Bateese nodded. He was beyond enthusiasm. His guardians considered a moment and then decided that the small nurse and Bateese be sent home in the hansom, the latter wrapped in Pat’s overcoat to protect him from the air, and eyes of a cold world. They were accordingly bundled into the vehicle.
“Here,” cried Pat, “take this beast with you,” and he thrust Cairlo in after them. “Same address and be quick,” he added, counting the fare into the man’s hand, and
