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Updated: June 28, 2025
Through the clear glass the children saw a table dressed in all the gorgeousness of silver and crystal. At the spectacle a clamor for food set up in both aching stomachs, and the two passed as if by one accord to the porch. As they peered into the window with longing eyes, Squeaky was held tightly under Flea's arm; but Snatchet, resting wearily on Flukey's, suddenly sat up.
She sat up, feeling for the pig and Snatchet, and placed her hand on Flukey's quiet body and lay down. Once more came the sound. It was the faint, distant hoot of an owl, stealing out through the tall trees. Nearer and nearer it came, until Flea sat bolt upright. Instantly into her mind shot the picture of a shriveled woman from the squatter country. A cold perspiration broke over her.
She was standing at the door with her ear to the keyhole. She heard the servant pass her, heard the door open, and Lon's voice asking for Mr. Shellington. Then she slid back to Flukey, trembling from head to foot. "Ye're sick, Dear," said the boy. "Get off this bed, Snatchet! Lay down here by me, Flea and rest." The girl dropped down beside him and closed her eyes with a groan.
She could not openly admit that Snatchet resembled anything beautiful she had ever seen, when the boy, his lips twitching with agony, held his pet up toward her. "Ye can take him, Ma'm," groaned Flukey. "He only bites bad 'uns like Lem Crabbe." Snatchet, feeling the importance of the moment, lifted his head and shot forth a slavering tongue.
In his loneliness he stroked Squeaky on the snout and muttered tender words to the lean dog lying under his lame leg. After a short time he saw Flea, with a small bundle in her hand, picking her way among the graves. Flukey lay perfectly quiet until his sister offered him a bun. "I could only buy four, 'cause I only had a nickel." "Give Squeaky and Snatchet one, will ye, Flea?" ventured Flukey.
Through the long stretch of houseless roads Snatchet was allowed to rove at will, and Flukey relieved his sister of her burden.
"Squeaky," said Flukey, "that's what the man called out." "Aw, that ain't nice enough for me! I'll call him Prince, and ye call him Squeaky Prince Squeaky," she ended, knotting the cord Flukey had given her about the short hind leg of the animal. "And we be rich," she declared later, "'most five dollars, a pig, and Snatchet, and yer leg's well. It don't hurt a bit, do it?"
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