Page:Stringer - Lonely O'Malley.djvu/59

 heels together. At such times he usually fell to whistling, always out of time and out of tune, with one shoulder hunched ominously up and his bushy russet eyebrows drawn darkly down. He was, in fact, precisely the sort of boy you would suspect if you chanced to find your Crawford's Early ravaged of its last peach, or if your English setter happened to be discovered under the back piazza with a watering-can tied to his tail.

Yet the next day, as you glanced into Lonely's starry and hungry-looking eyes, you might be nervously wondering if, after all, he really got enough to eat at home. Or you