TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
night with much cheerful bustle and noise, whistling a lively air, as if sin and crime were things unknown.
Meanwhile, long after the other inmates had sunk wearied to rest, the lodgers of the first floor front carried on a discussion in subdued though excited tones. Mr. Patterson paced up and down, raging at the publicity entailed and cursing the hour they ever spoke to “that incubus,” “that hoodoo” —indicating, with wrathful glances, the sleeping Bateese.
“It has been the most infernal chain of circumstances any bridegroom was ever tied to. Think of you being dragged into a dirty police station all for that unknown brat, that—”
“Call him a tambourine,” suggested Patty with a rueful smile. “You have done nothing but ‘pay, pay, pay’ ever since he was pre-
