TAG; OR, THE CHIEN BOULE DOG
to shut us up and beat us with straps, an’ p’raps kill us, an’ we’ll never git out of an iron place for years and years.”
Bateese’s placid temperament failed to become aroused at this. “You ron so you lak’, Jos’phine. I go to stay wit nice peep; buy me nice ‘chapeau,’ an’ nice ‘bottes’ an’ nice ‘habit’”—
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he was proudly enumerating his new possessions, pointing to each in turn, when cut short by a fierce grasp on his arm. Josephine was about to drag him forth, but just then a street piano struck up a lively tune and Bateese was conquered.
“Let’s run and hear the piano, Bateese, an’ then we'll come right back,” urged the temptress, and Bateese fell.
On issuing from the anteroom a moment
85
