d not be helped. He set about preparing a dessert--an
unheard-of climax to any previous evening meal. Fashioning small
containers of some biscuit dough, he first put the pulp of some cooked
prunes through the tea strainer--then filled the containers with the
sweetened fruit and baked them. All the while he visioned Cis's surprise
and delight over the tarts. He even anticipated some complimentary
remark from Big Tom.

"I'll get a merit badge," he vowed, "even if I have t' do a lot o'
things I hate!"

Luckily Cis arrived ahead of her stepfather. Having borrowed Grandpa's
Grand Army hat, Johnnie greeted her, first with a snappy salute; after
that he bowed and bared his head as if to the Queen or the Princess
Buddir al Buddoor--all this as per an illustration in his book which
showed a scout uncovering to an elderly lady in a three-cornered shawl.
"A scout's always p'lite t' women and children," he explained as he
offered her the kitchen chair. "And some day Boof is goin' t' go mad,
and I'm goin' t' protect y' from him! There's a pitcher in my new book
that shows how t' do it!"

He showed her his new present. However, she gave it only a glance,
exactly as if she had seen it before. She rarely even mentioned Mr.
Perkins any more, and now only remarked that to have given Johnnie the
book "was nice of him," adding that sport socks which showed a boy's
knees (she was referring to the cover of the Handbook) were "as stylish
as Fifth Avenue."

With Johnnie bustling hither and thither in a proud and entirely willing
manner, the longshoreman could not fail to remark a new spirit in the
flat. But in spite of the well-cooked, tasty meal, Big Tom was not moved
to speak any appreciation.

After a time, Johnnie decided to invite a comment. "I made y' biscuits
and gravy again," he pointed out.

"It's about time," returned Barber.

Biscuits and gravy, however, were an established combination. The
desired effect, then, might better be gotten with something never before
served. "And I fixed somethin' for y' t' finish up on," he announced.
Then opening the oven door to display the browning prune tarts, "Lookee!
Baby pies!"

"Mm!" breathed Big Tom, suspicion flashing whitely in that left eye.
"You're gittin' too good t' live! What y' been doin' t'-day? Breakin'
somethin'?" But later he ate four of the little confections with loud
smacks.

Johnnie, standing at his plate (as he had always stood at it since
coming to the flat, for t