It always looked unusually beautiful when she tried to be severe with him.

"You must promise me," she said feebly, "never to use those bad words again." "I promise not to," he said promptly--and he whispered an immediate codicil under his breath: "Unless I get mad at somebody!" This satisfied a code according to which, in his own sincere belief, he never told lies.
"That's a good boy," she said, and he ran out to the yard, his punishment over.

Some admiring friends were gathered there; they had heard of his adventure, knew of the note, and were waiting to see what was going to "happen" to him.

They hoped for an account of things, and also that he would allow them to "take turns" riding his pony to the end of the alley and back.
They were really his henchmen: Georgie was a lord among boys.

In fact, he was a personage among certain sorts of grown people, and was often fawned upon; the alley negroes delighted in him, chuckled over him, flattered him slavishly.