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The blandishments of soda water fountains, candy stores, and other boyish temptations, found no victim in Billy. But if Mr. Cooper, the tinshop man, had driven hard bargains he would have bankrupted the boy. As it was his weekly allowance suffered in spite of Mr. Cooper’s generosity and Billy’s free access to a rich scrap heap at the rear of the big shop where everything, one would say, in tin and iron was made, from well pipe, tanks, and boilers, to tin wings for Edith’s fairies in the opera. A lot more nonsense he rattled off, squeezing and kissing her till she was breathless with laughter. For a minute Billy stood, dazed, his heart thumping hard. Then he threw his cap in the air, sang out, “Bully for the Gang! This time it’s Billy To-day!” and raced down the hill to join them..
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Every back bent a little lower. Every face flushed a little rosier under its coat of grime. Praise from Billy was all they asked. “You’re a plucky kid, all right,” he replied, touched more than he would have admitted. “I won’t hurt the dog if you do as I tell you.” He looked for a cord or rope, but found none, and pulled from his pocket a red handkerchief. “Tie this around his neck; let one end hang down.” She shook her head. Ebenezer Wopp was the last silent word in patient masculinity, but his face, becoming darker with his work, would lead an onlooker to believe that sinister thoughts were struggling to find expression..
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