If the harp and crown had suddenly taken
their proper places, and a pair of spangled wings had blossomed right
out of her shoulders, and the radiant creature, thus equipped, had
spread her pinions and soared up to heaven, the boy Bog would hardly
have been surprised. As this angel came down the happy front steps to
the blessed pavement (Bog's mind supplying these adjectives), Bog would
color up, and sneak off at his best walking pace in the opposite
direction. He felt that, if Pet ever saw him, and should ask him what he
was doing in that neighborhood, he should melt away in perspiring
confusion on the spot.
He called at Mr. Minford's twice a week, to indulge in the hollow form
of asking if he could do anything for him. There he confronted Pet, with
that trembling figure and those averted eyes which an inexperienced
thief may show before the man that he has robbed. But Pet knew not of
the adoring spy.
One afternoon, the boy Bog had made his second detour, and was
approaching the corner of the favored block, when a novel idea struck
him. The very night before, Bog had posted bills of the play, "Faint
Heart Ne'er Won Fair Lady.
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