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 Stephen caught him by the arm and held him. The old dog came from under the table and wagged his tail.

“Bless my soul,” said Stephen, looking at him, “all these weeks I've been forgetting him. I've been in a kind of dream, boy—a kind of dream. Why didn't I 'it 'im before? Lord, why didn't I 'it 'im before!”

Peter at the word thought of his mother.

“Yes,” he thought, with clenched teeth, “I'll go for them!”