[Psidev-ms-cvs] his lips close to

[Ehly <pro...@ve...>]

Eard of lock-ups, and state-prisons, and handcuffs. "O, I didn't mean
any harm, sir," cried he, trying to steady his voice: "I reckon I ain't
lost, sir; or, if I am, I ain't lost _much_!" "So, so," laughed the
policeman, good-naturedly; "and what was your name, my little man,
before you got lost, and didn't get lost _much_?" "My name is Horace
Clifford, sir," replied the boy, wondering why a cruel policeman should
want to laugh. "Well, well," said the man, not unkindly, "I'm glad I've
come across ye, for your mother's in a terrible taking. What set ye out
to run off? Come, now; don't be sulky. Give us your hand, and I guess,
seein' it's you, we won't put you in the lock-up this time." Horace was
very grateful to the officer for not handcuffing him on the spot; still
he felt as if it was a great disgrace to be marched through the city by
a policeman. Mrs. Clifford, Grace, and Mr. Lazel