"There he is!" cried Jim, and before Miss Doc could lift so much as
hand or voice to restrain him, he had followed Tintoretto and fallen on
his knees by the side of his lost little foundling, who was helplessly
straddled by the pup, and who, for the first time, dropped his doll as
he held out his tiny arms to be taken.
"My little boy!" said the miner--"my little boy!" and taking both doll
and little man in his arms he held them in passionate tenderness
against his heart.
"How da'st you come in my kitchen with your dirty boots?" demanded Miss
Dennihan, in all her unabashed pugnacity.
"It's all right, little Skeezucks," said Jim to the timid little
pilgrim, who was clinging to his collar with all the strength of a
baby's new confidence and hope. "Did you think old brother Jim was
lost? Did you want to go home and get some bread and milk?"
"He ain't a bit hungry. He didn't want nuthin' to eat," said Miss Doc,
in self-defence. "And you ain't no more fit to have that there child
than a--"
"Goin' to have him all the same," old Jim interrupted, starting for the
door. "You stole him--that's what you did!"
"I didn't do no sech thing," said the housewife. "I jest nachelly
borrowed him--jest for over night.
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