gentlemen please hold Skippy while I find those
tickets? He just had a bath and if he rolls over he'll get soiled."

Fico took the dog, which promptly yelped, so he hurriedly handed it to
Pinac. Pinac, who was afraid of dogs, transferred the animal to Poons.
Poons, anxious to be of some service to Miss Husted, tried to pet the
dog, but looking at Miss Husted for approval instead of watching the
beast, he held it so awkwardly that its head hung down and its tail
stuck up in the air. Miss Husted, in the act of pulling pawn tickets
out of her reticule, caught sight of the unfortunate animal suspended
in mid air, and jumped up quickly.

"Look at him! Look how the stupid, stupid fellow is holding Skippy!
All the blood will rush into his poor little head. The dog, the dog;
you foolish fellow; the d-o-g, dog! I can't make him understand.
Please tell him, Mr. Pinac."

"Hund--hund!" shouted Fico to Poons.

"Le chien--Le chien! Idiot, stupid!" said Pinac.

Poons was so startled by hearing them all shout at him at once that he
dropped the dog into Von Barwig's coal scuttle, whence it finally
issued covered with coal dust and ran yelping into Miss Husted's arms.
That lady petted the frightened animal while Pinac pushed the
unfortunate Poons out of the room.

When Miss Husted had completely recovered herself, she held up the pawn
tickets.

"I found them," she said dolefully, "under that pile of music."

"Gritt Scott!" said Pinac. He knew at a glance what they were;
experience had taught him.

"Are they of Von Barwig?" he inquired.

Fico took three or four of the tickets. "From Anton; yes," and then he
sighed and shook his head.

The men knew Von Barwig was poor, but they had no idea to what extent
his poverty had reached.

"His cuckoo clock: nine dollars!" read Fico.

"That was the first thing I missed--that cuckoo, evenings," sighed Miss
Husted.

"Mozart, gone!" almost shouted Pinac, pointing to the spot on the wall
where that musician's portrait had once reposed. "And Beethoven! And
where is Gluck?" Then looking around: "Nom de Dieu! even his metronome
have gone--his metronome! Dieu, Dieu!"

"I should say it was dear, dear!" said Miss Husted, who slightly
misunderstood Pinac.

And so the truth dawned upon them. For months, for years he had
deceived them with his smile, his optimism, his gay manner and cheery
word, and above all by the open-hearted manner in which he gave away to
all who came to