Part 14 (2/2)

The next thing was to prepare the children's supper. This was a far more serious matter for the loafer. But he finally achieved it, having learnt, by the process of cross-questioning the girl, what was usual and therefore expected. However, it was not without some difficulty that he succeeded in providing an adequate meal, which consisted of bread and milk, with bread and mola.s.ses as a sort of dessert. For himself, he was forced to fare off a tin of lobster and tea. Still, his difficulties were not of much consequence so long as the children were satisfied. And any bother to himself was his own fault, in having relied for a moment on Sandy Joyce's ideas of a menu.

Supper over and the table cleared, he decided on further catechizing little Vada on points that still were a mystery to him. So, with Jamie busy on the floor endeavoring to solve the mystery of the pup's wagging tail, he lit his pipe and took Vada on his knee. He endeavored to recall incidents of his own childhood; to remember something of his own early routine. But somehow nothing was very clear.

He had washed the children and given them food. Those things seemed to him to be perfectly sound. Well, what next? It was a little difficult.

He glanced at the sun. Surely bed would be quite in order. Bed--ah, yes, that was a happy thought. He remembered now, when he was young he always used to get himself into trouble purposely so they would send him to bed. But with this thought came the regretful recollection that his predilection for bed was quickly discovered, and his further penalties took the form of the buckle end of his father's waist-belt.

However, he put the proposition with much tact.

”Say, kiddies,” he began, ”how soon does your momma put you to bed?”

Vada shook her wise little head.

”Momma don't. Poppa does.”

”And when's that?” he inquired, driving at his point deliberately.

”When momma says.”

Vada was fastening and unfastening the man's dirty waistcoat with great interest.

”An' when does your momma say it?” Sunny persisted.

”When poppa's done the ch.o.r.es.”

”Ah!”

He felt himself on the wrong tack, and cast about for a fresh line of argument.

”Guess you kiddies like bed some,” he hazarded doubtfully.

”Me like m'la.s.ses,” piped Jamie, who had managed to get the pup's tail over his shoulder, and was hanging on to it with both hands. Vada shrieked as the pup began to yelp.

”Oh, look at Jamie,” she cried. ”He's pulling Dougal's tail right out.

You're a naughty, naughty boy.”

”Not naughty,” protested Jamie, pulling harder.

Sunny reached down and released the mongrel, who promptly turned round and licked the boy's face. Jamie fought him with his little clenched fists, and finally began to cry.

Again Sunny went to the rescue, and with some difficulty peace was restored. Then he went back to his subject.

”Guess we'll hev to go to bed right now,” he suggested, with an air of authority.

”Momma ain't back,” said Vada, her eyes round and wondering.

”She'll be right along presently,” lied Sunny.

”'Ess,” declared Jamie, ”an'--an'--we go find 'piders an'--an' bugs.”

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