Having delivered himself in shrill, fluent tones, to this effect, the young imp grinned cheerfully, and stood rapidly twirling his cap on his hand like a pin-wheel, and rolling his eyes at the three ladies. Muriel looked at him with a still face, but Mrs. Eastman smiled, and Emily, who had seen him once before, laughed amusedly. “What an odd creature he is,” said the latter. “To think of his preferring to be called by that droll name? Don’t you like to be called Charles?” she asked, addressing the boy. “Like it extrornerly, Miss Ames—never git done likin’ that name noways, Miss Ames,” he asseverated, with great earnestness. “But you see, Miss Ames, ’taint so familiar like as Tugmutton. Father calls me Tugmutton, an’ mar, an’ Josey, an’ Tom, an’ everbody, since I was knee-high to a toad, Miss Ames. Tugmutton’s my Christian name, Miss Ames, and Charles’s my given name as Miss Eas’man give me, Miss Ames.” “Look here, Charles,” said Muriel, suddenly, “are you sure the kidnappers are in town?” “Dead sure, Miss Eas’man—jus’ as sure as can be.” “How do you know? Who told you?” “Laws! Miss Eas’man! Why it’s in the newspaper!” blurted out the imp, rolling up the whites of his eyes at her with a look of amazed reproach. “O, no, Charles! It’s not in the newspaper, for I’ve read the papers this morning,” said Muriel, smiling, and shaking her finger at him. Tugmutton looked demure for a second, then smiled sheepishly, furtively rolled his eyes one side at the wall, and fidgeted on his feet, and with his cap and jacket. “Laws, Miss Eas’man! it’s goin’ to be in the paper. Paper’ll be chock full of it to-morrow.” “O, I guess it’s not true,” said Muriel, slowly, with a relieved smile. “It must be a false alarm, Charles.” “My gosh, Miss Eas’man, I don’t believe there’s one word of truth in it,” said Tugmutton, puckering out his great lips with an air of precocious contempt, and whirling his cap on his hand. “Never _could_ make me believe one word of that story. It’s jus’ nothin’ but a weak invention of the enemy.” The phrase, which Tugmutton had picked up from somebody, was so odd in his childish mouth, and so oddly expressed, that Emily burst into a fit of laughter, and threw herself into a chair, while both Mrs. Eastman and Muriel smiled. Tugmutton grinned delightedly at the effect of his speech, and then looked awfully demure and dignified. “Anyhow,” he continued, “all them foolish colored folks are believin’ that story. Them folks has jus’ got no gumption, anyway. Talkin’ about that story in the street, now—millions of them.” “Are the colored people out in the street, Charles?” asked Mrs. Eastman. “In the street? Laws, Missus Eas’man, Southac street’s full of ’em,” returned Tugmutton. “There may be something in it, after all, mother,” said Muriel. “I’ll go.” “Bless me, Muriel, are you not afraid?” exclaimed Emily. “Afraid! Not at all. What possible danger is there? Besides, I want to see what’s going on. Come, let’s go.”