a grasping of my collar, and a shaking that freed us of each other, for I was clutching him with fury equal to his own.
A minute passed before I could regain possession of myself. The street reeled, the organ seemed to be grinding in my own head, and yet I found that it was not playing at all, for there was Tony with it on his back, looking anxiously into my face, and firing a volley of invective after the big boy, who was retreating with his mates.
I looked up at the owner of the hand which still held my collar. He was a very thin young man with a pale face and quiet grey eyes.
Tony began to offer incoherent explanations.
"But who are they?" demanded the young man, "they don't seem to belong to this street."
"No, no, no," reiterated Tony, "dey are little fr-riends of mine—dey come for a walk with me. Oh, I shall get into some trouble for dis, I tink! It was all dose damn boys dat bully heem, an' when I would run to help, dere was my Anita lef' on da organ, an' I mus' not lose her!"
"It's all right," I explained to the young man, "we were just spending the afternoon with Tony, and it wasn't his fault we got to fighting, and—and did I do very badly please? Did you notice whether I pawed or not?"
[143]
