"Shame on you!" exclaimed Martha indignantly, addressing the spellbound line, staring at her blankly. "Shame on you! To stand there gawkin', an' never raisin' a finger to this poor little fella, an' him just perishin' for the touch of a real mother's hand. Get out of this--the whole crowd o' you," and before the force of her righteous wrath they fled as chaff before the wind. Then, quick as the automatic click of a monstrous spring, the hitherto unknown--the supposed-to-be-impossible--befell Radcliffe Sherman. He was treated as if he had been an iron girder on which the massive clutch of a steam-lift had fastened. He was raised, lowered, laid across what seemed to be two moveless iron trestles, and then the weight as of a mighty, relentless paddle, beat down upon him once, twice, thrice--and he knew what it was to suffer. The whole thing was so utterly novel, so absolutely unexpected, that for the first instant he was positively stunned with surprise. Then the knowledge that he was being spanked, that an unspeakable indignity was happening him, made him clinch his teeth against the sobs that rose in his throat, and he bore his punishment in white-faced, shivering silence. When it was over, Martha stood him down in front of her, holding him firmly against her knees, and looked him squarely in the eyes. His colorless, quivering lips gave out no sound. "You've got off easy," observed Mrs. Slawson benevolently. "If you'd been my boy Sammy, you'd a got about twict as much an' three times as thora. As it is, I just kinder favored you--give you a lick an' a promise, as you might say, seein' it's you and you ain't used to it--_yet_. Besides, I reely like you, an' want you to be a good boy. But, if you should need any more at any other time, why, you can take it from me, I keep my hand in on Sammy, an' practice makes perfect." She released the two small, trembling hands, rose to her feet, and made as if to leave the room. Then for the first time Radcliffe spoke. "S-say," he breathed with difficulty, "s-say--are you--are you goin' to _t-tell?_" Martha paused, regarding him and his question with due concern. "Tell?" "Are y-you going to--t-tell on me, t-to ev-everybody? Are y-you going to t-tell--S-Sammy?" "Shoor I'm not! I'm a perfect lady! I always keep such little affairs with my gen'lemen friends strickly confidential. Besides--Sammy has troubles of his own." CHAPTER V All that day, Martha held herself in readiness to answer at headquarters for what she had done. "He'll shoor tell his mother, the young villyan," said Eliza. "An' then it'll be Mrs. Slawson for the grand bounce." But Mrs. Slawson did not worry. She went about her work as usual, and when, in the course of her travels, she met Radcliffe, she greeted him as if nothing had happened. "Say, did you know that Sammy has a dog?" No answer. "It's a funny kind o' dog. If you begged your head off, I'd never tell you where he come from." "Where did he come from?"