"Do it," Mr. Poddle gasped, worn out, "in public. But since I been lyin' here," he added, "lookin' back, I seen the error. The public, Richard, has no feelin'. They'd laugh--if I groaned. I don't like the public--no more. I don't want to die--in public. I want," he concluded, his voice falling to a thin, exhausted whisper, "only your mother--and you, Richard--and----" "Did you say--Her?" "The Lovely One!" "I'll bring her!" said the boy, impulsively. "No, no! She wouldn't come. I been--in communication--recent. And she writ back. Oh, Richard, she writ back! My heart's broke!" The boy brushed the handkerchief over the Dog-faced Man's eyes. "'Are you muzzled,' says she, 'in dog days?'" "Don't mind her!" cried the boy. "In the eyes of the law, Richard," Mr. Poddle exclaimed, his eyes flashing, "I ain't no dog!" The boy kissed his forehead--there was no other comfort to offer: and the caress was sufficient. "I wish," Mr. Poddle sighed, "that I knew how God will look at it--to-night!" Mr. Poddle, exhausted by speech and emotion, closed his eyes. By and by the boy stealthily withdrew his hand from the weakening clasp. Mr. Poddle gave no sign of knowing it. The boy slipped away.... And descending to the third floor of the tenement, he came to the room where lived the Mexican Sword Swallower: whom he persuaded to return with him to Mr. Poddle's bedside. They paused at the door. The woman drew back. "Aw, Dick," she simpered, "I hate to!" "Just this once!" the boy pleaded. "Just to say it!" The reply was a bashful giggle. "You don't have to _mean_ it," the boy argued. "Just _say_ it--that's all!" They entered. Mr. Poddle was muttering the boy's name--in a vain effort to lift his voice. His hands were both at the coverlet--picking, searching: both restless in the advancing sunshine. With a sob of self-reproach the boy ran quickly to the bedside, took one of the wandering hands, pressed it to his lips. And Mr. Poddle sighed, and lay quiet again. "Mr. Poddle," the boy whispered, "she's come at last." There was no response. "She's come!" the boy repeated. He gave the hand he held to the woman. Then he put his lips close to the dying man's ear. "Don't you hear me? She's come!" Mr. Poddle opened his eyes. "Her--massive--proportions!" he faltered. "Quick!" said the boy. "Poddle," the woman lied, "I love you!" Then came the Dog-faced Man's one brief flash of ecstasy--expressed in a wondrous glance of joy and devotion: but a swiftly fading fire. "She loves me!" he muttered. "I do, Poddle!" the woman sobbed, willing, now, for the grotesque deception. "Yes, I do!" "'Beauty,'" Mr. Poddle gasped, "'and the Beast!'" They listened intently. He said no more.... Soon the sunbeam glorified the smiling face.... [Illustration: Tailpiece to _Mr. Poddle's Finale_] [Illustration: Headpiece to _His Mother_] _HIS MOTHER_