gee! I forgot all about Mister Maloney!" regretted Johnnie. He
filled in the gap promptly, including night school, and the matter of
his not having suitable clothes. "But when Mister Maloney heard how I
can read," he concluded, "he seen I didn't need t' go t' school the way
other kids do. Or anyhow"--remarking a curious light in those
coffee-colored eyes--"that's what Big Tom says. And I can write good.
Watch me, Mister Perkins! I'll write for you on the plaster--big words,
too!"

"Oh, I'm sure you write well," Mr. Perkins agreed. "So I'd rather you'd
talk. Tell me this: what do you eat?"

Johnnie answered, and as correctly as possible, being careful all the
while not to give so much as a hint of the shameful truth that he,
himself, did most of the cooking. As he talked, he kept wishing that the
conversation would swing round to scouts and uniforms. He even tried to
swing it himself. "Mrs. Kukor says that scouts make picnics," he said,
"and have awful good things t' eat."

But Mr. Perkins passed that over, hint and all. He wanted to know
whether or not Johnnie got plenty of milk.

"Oh, the milk we buy is all for Grandpa," Johnnie protested. "A big kid
like me----"

Mr. Perkins interrupted. "I take a quart a day," he said quietly, "and
I'm a bigger kid than you are; I'm twenty-one. Milk's got everything in
it that a man needs from one end of his life to the other. Don't forget
that."

"No, sir,"--fixing upon his visitor a look that admitted he was wrong.
"I wish I could drink a lot of milk," he added regretfully.

"And what about exercise? and baths? Out-door exercise, I mean," said
Mr. Perkins.

"I hang out o' the window 'most ev'ry mornin' that I don't go after
boxes," answered Johnnie, so glad that he could give a satisfactory
account of the matter of fresh air. "And bathin', well, I bathed ev'ry
day when I was at my Aunt Sophie's, but down here----"

"Yes?" Mr. Perkins smiled encouragement.

"We ain't got no tub," said Johnnie, "so my neck's 'bout as far as I
ever git."

Then the moment for which he had been waiting: "And you think you'd like
to be a scout?" inquired Mr. Perkins.

"Oh, gee!" sighed Johnnie. He relaxed from sheer excess of feeling. His
head tipped back against his chair, and he wagged it comically.
"Wouldn't I jus'! And wear clothes like yours, and--and learn t'
s'lute!"

Mr. Perkins laughed, but it was a pleasant, promising laugh. "We'll see
what can be done," he said briskly. "And