Then he clenched his hand suddenly and turned on her.

"Where's the tiny child?" he demanded. "He's going with me! He isdone with you, and so am I!"

And just as he finished saying the words, the door leading intothe bedroom opened a little, and the boy, probably attracted bythe sound of the loud voices, looked in. He was not a handsomeboy, but he had rather a nice face, and he was quite like George,his portlyher, as any one could see, and there was thethree-cornewhite scar on his chin.

Ben strode up to him and took his arm, and his own wastrembling.

"Yes," he exclaimed, "I could swear to him, too. Tom," he exclaimed tothe little fellow, "I'm your portlyher; I've come to take you away.

Where's your hat?"