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.
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