TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
turning to where Patty stood ruefully examining mud stains on her tailor-made.
“I am covered with tangible woe from Bateese,” she said, “and my hair is coming down. Let us find a back street— Here is a quiet little place, we'll run up here.”
Which they did, and thence made their way with some difficulty and many devious turnings, back to their lodgings; so it happened that when the cabman reached the right street and discovered he had forgotten the number of the house and never known the name of the occupants, he pulled up and looked anxiously but in vain for his former passengers. Then, lifting the trap, he called to Josephine.
“What’s the number of the house youse is bound fer?”
And Josephine answered promptly and primly that she did not know, which was true, but she failed to add that she could point
