The Scout Master stood still. With hard, almost feverish eyes the face of the woman was scanned. The eyes especially were studied deeply. The trunk and the clothing, the abominable odours of cheap soaps and vile perfumes, all registered adversely on the child’s mind. This woman in the house and Jamie at Margaret Cameron’s, and doing nothing about it! That was exactly like Jamie. It had been the private opinion of the little Scout for some time that as a fighter Jamie might hold his own among the Germans, but he did not show much inclination to hold his own when somebody tried to give him a wonderful piece of property. Vaguely the thought that had begun stirring in the back of the Scout Master’s head stirred deeper and cleared up and took form, The small hand was thrust out.
“Give me your dime! Sure I’ll do your errands for you!” said the little Scout.
With the dime tightly gripped in one hand, the Scout Master sailed over the fence and landed almost at the feet of Jamie, and there the child stared at him belligerently.
“Who’s the Jane in the crooked make-up and the dirty skirt?”
The demand was brief and to the point.
“Is there any one in the house?” asked Jamie.
He was so taken aback he reverted to his father’s childhood and said “hoose.”
“I’m tellin’ you there’s someone in the ‘hoose!’” cried the little Scout. “There’s a comedy queen in the ‘hoose’!
