"You're a perfect lady, ma'am!" he said. "I see that the minute I laid eyes on you. I'll get that note if it takes a leg! 'Twon't take above a week to get to Shoreham--say a day there, and another week back--walkin', you understand--say two weeks, and I'll be back if I'm alive. I'm a thousand times obliged to you, lady--and you too, ma'am!" His smile loosened the strictures about Mrs. Faulkner's heart--a good heart, but over-institutionalized by years of routine--and sent a warm glow through her. "I'll wish you good day--say!" he stopped suddenly. "About that pup--I would say kid: him with the freckles and the bull-dog grip. I like that kid. He's got sand, a whole bag of it. If you was lookin' for a home for him when he leaves this joint--but I guess we better leave that till I bring that note, what say? Good day, ladies! Come up, Nipper!" And with a comprehensive wave and smile that took in every eager face glued to the playroom window, Pippin went his way. CHAPTER XV PIPPIN MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE Pippin went his way, planning his expedition as he went. He would start that evening, in the cool. Pay up at his joint, and he might leave Nipper there, mebbe. Decent folks, and he could travel quicker--No! he would take Nipper along, and give 'em a good sharpenin' up all round over there. The Warden's boys--they'd be glad to see him, he expected. A boy's knife always needed 'tendin' to; and the Warden! He was real good, he might have some tools, and he could go into the shop--green grass! he really believed he'd be glad to see the old place again! Now wouldn't that give you a pain? Was that because he warn't obleeged to go, think, or because he found the Lord there, and there was a manner of blessin' on the place for him?--"Easy there!" The last remark was not addressed to himself. He was crossing the street with perhaps a dozen other persons, between two halted phalanxes of motor cars, drays, wagons; midway a monumental policeman held a fraction of the world in the hollow of his hand. Just in front of Pippin was a stout gentleman, puffing nervously, his gold-framed gaze fixed intently on the sidewalk haven before him. Suddenly a boy--he was no more--stumbled over Pippin's feet, lurched forward, and fell heavily against the stout gentleman with a cry of alarm. The gentleman turned quickly. As he did so, Pippin's left arm shot out; he caught the boy and held him, struggling and kicking. "Nix on the swipe, my darlin'," he said quietly. "Lemme go!" spluttered the boy. "---- you, lemme go!" "Is he hurt?" asked the stout gentleman. "Is the poor lad hurt?" "Not yet he ain't," said Pippin grimly, "but he's liable to be." "Step lively!" thundered the policeman, his eye on the pawing motor cars. Pippin nodded toward the further sidewalk, and made his way thither, dragging his prisoner by the collar. The stout gentleman followed, bewildered. "I don't understand--" he began.