k, and the freedom to go to
and from it. But Grandpa!--his old heart was wrapped up in his Johnnie.
So childish that he was virtually a little boy, he had for Johnnie the
respect and affection that a little boy gives to a bigger one.

Next, bright, shining, birdlike eyes were smiling at him--Mrs. Kukor!
The horse blanket shook. At either side of Johnnie's nose a damp spot
came on One-Eye's coat.

But fortunately the trembling and the tears were seen by no human eyes,
only by a brown pair that belonged to those brown ears. And presently,
when the nearest lights went out, leaving Johnnie's retreat in gloom,
the pictures that smote him changed to those of a sleeping dream, and he
wandered on and on through a vast white garden that grew hats and
coats--in a double row.

When he wakened, the lights were on again. As he rose he made up his
mind to win One-Eye's consent to his remaining in this big palace--which
had turned out to be a horse palace. "'Cause I dassn't go back!" he
decided. The enormity of what he had done in leaving the flat and
staying away a whole night, he now realized. A creepy feeling traveled
up and down his spine at the thought of it, and he shook to his
calloused heels.

Then with a grin, he remembered that no one knew where he belonged.
Furthermore, as One-Eye did not believe that Johnnie Smith was his real
name, he had only to hint that he was somebody else, which would throw
his new friend completely off the track.

He leaned against the stall and pulled at his hair, considering that
problem of staying on. To his way of thinking, there was only one good
scheme by which to win the approbation of anybody, and that scheme was
work. So when he had tugged at his hair till the last straw was out of
it, he pattered off down the runway, determined to find some task that
needed to be done.

The great place appeared strangely deserted as to men. So he came across
no one whom he could help. As for the occupants of the giant circle of
stalls, he did not know what service he could offer them. He felt fairly
sure that horses' faces were not washed of a morning. And they had all
been fed. But why not comb their hair? Searching up and down for a
possible comb, he spied a bucket. Then he knew what he could do.

The job was not without its drawbacks. For one thing, the horses were
afraid of him. They wrenched at their hitching-chains when he came close
to their heels, or blew noisily, or bunched themselves into