wide-eyed and with beating heart.

The Old Woman arose more fully into view. She stared down at
Everychild. She flung the hair back from her face.

"Humph!" she said.

CHAPTER XVI

AN ELABORATION OF ONE OF HISTORY'S MOST SUCCINCT CHAPTERS

Everychild's companions drew back behind the shelter of a convenient
bush. The Old Woman's countenance really did seem, for the moment,
quite ferocious. But Everychild did not move.

The Old Woman arose still higher and stepped out of the top of the shoe
to the top rung of the ladder. She carried a steaming pot in one hand,
and thus handicapped she descended the ladder.

She placed the steaming pot on the table and then turned her attention
to Everychild. She exclaimed dubiously: "You're not one o' mine!"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am," he replied.

She sat down deliberately, drawing a long breath, but without taking
her eyes from Everychild. "Just an idler," she said, "like all the
rest of the young ones. I don't know what's the matter with them these
days--children. When I was young I had to work. I expected nothing
less. And I tell mine what was good enough for me is good enough for
them."

She made this statement as if she hadn't left a single thing to be said.

It seemed rather obscure to Everychild. He tried to think of a more
agreeable subject. He looked the Old Woman's house over, up and down.
"It's rather a funny house, isn't it?" he remarked.

The Old Woman's manner became more sullen than ever. She seized upon a
ladle and began stirring the steaming pot. "It does very well," she
declared. "Houses are funny or otherwise according to what goes on in
them. When you've got your hands full of children who don't want to
work you can't say that your house is exactly funny. Its being an old
shoe--if that's what you mean . . . that's a matter of taste. I prefer
it, for my part. I'd never have been able to settle down anywhere
else. You see, I had to be on my feet mostly all the time from little
on, and now it comes natural, being in a shoe. I can imagine I'm on
the go, even if I never get out from one week's end to another."

She lifted the ladle from the pot. She pressed one hand to her bosom
and with the other lifted the ladle to her lips, testing the stew.
There was a thoughtful look in her eyes. Then she continued:

"_As for living in a shoe . . . there's plenty of females that live in
two_. Always on the go, they're that restless