Billy, that is, Billy's mother's Billy, could whip
anybody on earth, she didn't care who he was, and nobody should frighten
this dear little soul; and the old lady began now to express her ideas
in that strange language which is hidden from the wise and prudent but
revealed unto grandmammas and babes. "B'essings!" she said, "b'essings
on 'e dear heart an' e' 'ittie body, wiv 'e 'ittie youn' nose, an' 'e
ittie b'u' eyes, an' 'e ittie youn' cheeks, an' e' ittie youn' evysing,
an' nobody s'all bozzer her at all, not 'e 'east ittie bit, 'tause s'e
was a sweet ittie fwing, and Billy, wiz him big fist an' him date big
arm, Billy dust take 'e b'ack mans an' all 'e uzzer mans wot bozzer zis
ittie soul an' 'e frow 'em yite in 'e Norf Yiver, yite in, not carin'
'tall bout 'e ice, but dus' frow 'em in an' yet 'em det out e' bes' way
zay tan. B'ess ittie heart!"

Then Lotchen smiled and put up her pretty face to be kissed, which she
didn't have to do twice before it was kissed by them both, and Billy who
hadn't slung hammers all his life for nothing, rolled up his
shirt-sleeves and doubled up his fists, and sparred away at the air as
if to suggest what would happen to any one who laid as much as his
little finger on her.

All through the breakfast Billy kept his eyes on that round, pretty
face, and wondered what he should say and do when the "black man" came
to get her. He began to grow moody and sullen as the buckwheat cakes
disappeared, and when thirty of them had been disposed of Billy felt
himself ready to meet Mr. Wrangler. He had some questions he desired to
ask Mr. Wrangler, and the oftener he thought them over the more he felt
his fingers itch to close themselves around Mr. Wrangler's long and
scraggy neck. He waited an hour, two hours, but no Mr. Wrangler came,
and at last Billy concluded to mount the stairs and to interview Mr.
Wrangler in the hall bedroom.

He told Lotchen to go into his room, where she had spent the night, and
on her assuring him that she wasn't afraid, he locked her in and stowed
the key away in his pocket. Then he shot upstairs to the hall bedroom.
He knocked, but no answer came. He opened the door. The room was empty.
The bed was just as he had left it the night before with the impression
upon it of the little form he had carried away. It had evidently been
without a tenant during the night. All that Christmas Day he waited and
watched for Mr. Wrangler, but he waited and watched in vain.