60 THE BOY FROM GREEN GINGER LAND

The rest of her sentence was lost in indignant
astonishment; someone had flicked one of the
little feather brooms known as ‘fair-ticklers’ full

in her face !

‘Come along, Micky,’ she exclaimed, with angry
impatience ; ‘I'm sick of this horrid place. Why,
what are you doing P’

For Micky had suddenly flung down the ball
which he was about to shy at the cocoanuts, and
was rushing after a wretched little street arab

of about his own size.
‘ Give it up l You little cad !' he shouted, as he

caught hold of the boy's ragged jacket. ‘Give it
up this minute!’

‘I ain't got nothing,’ whined the boy, trying
vainly to wriggle out of Micky’s grasp.

‘Yes, you have. I saw you take it,’ and to
Emmeline’s intense surprise, Micky suddenly
wrenched her own purse out of the street arab’s
dirty hand. Her thoughts had been so much
taken up by the fair-tickler that she had not even
felt it go.

‘I'd give you a jolly good thrashing if you
weren't such a muff!’ exclaimed Micky.

Emmeline collected her astonished wits with

an effort. .

‘Well, you are a naughty little boy,' she re-
marked severely ; ‘ it would just serve you right if
we gave you up to the police.’