" Mrs. Bailey complied. There was a quick jump, a tumbling rush,
and Skiddles, the lost Skiddles, was in the philanthropist's arms. Mrs.
Bailey shut the door with a troubled face.
"I see it's your dog, sir," she said, "but I hope you won't be thinking
that Jimmy or I--"
"Madam," interrupted Mr. Carter, "I could not be so foolish. On the
contrary, I owe you a thousand thanks."
Mrs. Bailey looked more cheerful. "Poor little Billy!" she said. "It'll
come hard on him, losing Pete just at Christmas time. But the boys are
so good to him, I dare say he'll forget it."
"Who are these boys?" inquired the philanthropist. "Isn't their
action--somewhat unusual?"
"It's Miss Gray's club at the settlement, sir," explained Mrs. Bailey.
"Every Christmas they do this for somebody. It's not charity; Billy and
I don't need charity, or take it. It's just friendliness. They're good
boys."
"I see," said the philanthropist. He was still wondering about it,
though, when the door opened again, and Jimmy thrust out a face shining
with anticipation.
"All ready, mister!" he said. "Bill's waitin' for you!"
"Jimmy," began Mrs. Bailey, about to explain, "the gentleman--"
But the philanthropist held up his hand, interrupting her. "You'll let
me see your son, Mrs. Bailey?" he asked, gently.
"Why, certainly, sir.
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