d himself thinking hard. "You got an iron?" he
inquired presently.

"Sure--two." Scipio laid the knickers aside. "You hot one while you
use the other."

Sunny nodded again.

"You see," the other went on, considering, "these pretties needs
washin' first. Well, then I guess they need to dry. Now, 'bout starch?
'Most everything needs starch. At least, ther' always seems to be
starch around washing-time. Y'see, I ain't wise to starch."

"Blamed if I am either," agreed Sunny. Then his more practical mind
asserted itself. "Say, starch kind o' fixes things hard, don't it?" he
inquired.

"It sure does."

Scipio was trying to follow out his companion's train of thought.

Sunny suddenly sat down on the edge of the table and grinned
triumphantly.

"Don't use it," he cried, with finality. "You need to remember kiddies
is tender skinned, anyway. Starch'll sure make 'em sore."

Scipio brightened.

"Why, yes," he agreed, with relief. "I didn't jest think about that.
I'm a heap obliged, Sunny. You always seem to help me out."

The flush of pleasure which responded to the little man's tribute was
quite distinguishable through the dirt on the loafer's face.

"Don't mention it," he said embarrassedly. "It's easy, two thinkin'
together. 'Sides, I've tho't a heap 'bout things since--since I
started to fix your kiddies right. Y'see, it ain't easy."

"No, it just ain't. That is, y'see, I ain't grumbling," Scipio went on
hurriedly, lest his meaning should be mistaken. "If you're stuck on
kiddies, like me, it don't worry you nuthin'. Kind of makes it
pleasant thinkin' how you can fix things fer 'em, don't it? But it
sure ain't easy doing things just right. That's how I mean. An' don't
it make you feel good when you do fix things right fer 'em? But I
don't guess that comes often, though," he added, with a sigh. "Y'see,
I'm kind of awkward. I ain't smart, like you or Bill."

"Oh, Bill's real smart," Sunny began. Then he checked himself. He was
to keep Bill's name out of this matter, and he just remembered it in
time. So he veered round quickly. "But I ain't smart," he declared.
"Anything I know I got from a leddy friend. Y'see, women-folk knows a
heap 'bout kiddies, which, I 'lows, is kind o' natural."

He fumbled in his pocket and drew out several sheets of paper.
Arranging them carefully, he scanned the scrawling writing on them.

"Guess you're a scholar, so I won't need to read what I writ down
here. Mebbe you'll be able t