nnie gloried in it all,
seeing such results as future possibilities of his own, and not
forgetting to remark how kind, through all the upward trending of
fortune, Aladdin had been to his mother (though he, himself, did not
pause in his enjoyment of the tale to take the regular train trip with
Grandpa).

Twice during the morning the old soldier, by whimpering insistently,
brought himself to Johnnie's attention. But the moment Grandpa was
waited upon, back Johnnie went to his book, and page was turned upon
page as the black magic of the hateful African wafted that most perfect
of palaces many a league from its original site, and separated for his
own wicked purposes the loving Aladdin and his devoted Buddir al
Buddoor.

And then--all of a sudden--and for no reason that Johnnie could name,
but as if some good genie of his own were watching over him, and had
whispered a warning, he cast off the enthrallment of Asia, stopped
dragging at his hair, started to his feet, slid the book under his
collar-band, and took stock of the time.

It was twelve. Indeed, the noon whistles were just beginning to blow.
But they and the clock did not reassure him. He had been dimly aware,
the past hour or so, of a strange state of quiet overhead. That
awareness now resolved itself into a horrible fear--the fear that, in
spite of lunches put up and a clock wound to clang at four in the
afternoon, the day was--Saturday!

"Gee!" breathed Johnnie, and paled to a sickly white.

His first thought was to make sure one way or another. Scurrying to the
window, he pushed it up, hung out of it toward the Gamboni casement, and
called to a sleek head that at this time of the day was almost certain
to be bobbing in sight. There it was, and "What day is this, Mrs.
Gamboni?" he demanded. "Quick! Is it Saturday?"

"_Si!_"

Saturday! A half-day! _Barber!_

He threw himself backward, then stood for a moment, panic-stricken. Of
course it was Saturday. Which explained why Mrs. Kukor was out. Oh, why
had she not stopped by on her way to church? Oh, why had he left any of
his work undone? Oh, for some genie to finish it all up in a second!
Oh, for some Slave of a Ring or a Lamp!

"Gee!" he breathed again. "This was the shortest Saturday mornin' in the
world!"

There now came to the fore the practical side of his nature. He knew he
must do one of two things: stay, and take the whipping that Big Tom
would surely give him, or--go.

What had heretofore ke