hat ye could fair
light a candle at 'em!"

Johnnie guessed that the candle-lighting eyes were his own. His ears
moved perceptibly backward and his cheeks lifted in a grin. He was
himself looking into a pair that were jolly and keen and kind--and
Irish. A soft straw hat shaded them; and short, flaming-red hair, which
filled in at either side of the head between hat and ear, served to
accentuate the green that tinged their mild gray. Below the eyes was a
nose unmistakably pugged. Lower still, a long upper lip gave to a mouth
(generous in size) that, smiling, showed itself to be full of dental
bridges made entirely of gold.

"Massy gold!" Johnnie reflected admiringly, "like the dishes Aladdin's
got." And he made up his mind, then and there, that when he was
grown-up, and could afford it, he would have gold bridges.

"And where d' ye think ye're goin' wid th' roses?" inquired the giant in
the blue uniform, managing a smile for this rarity among city urchins.

"No 'xact where," replied Johnnie.

"Well, then, little lad, dear," said the other man, "is it lost ye are?
or are all those sassy roses just coaxin' ye out into the sun?"

Now here was a thought that appealed! Johnnie's eyes twinkled. "Wouldn't
y' both like t' have a smell of 'em?" he asked, and lifted the bouquet
temptingly. "I was sent out to sell 'em."

Now witness a stern guardian of the peace, who but a moment ago had in
his mind the thought of "landin' a bit of a thief," leaning forward to
take a breath of the flowers. "Grand," he agreed. The larger man took
off his hat before he bent to inhale. "Dain-tee!" he cried, with an
enthusiastic shake of his red head; then to a half-dozen small loiterers
who were straining to hear, "There! there! Run along now, children dear!
Ye're wanted at the telephone!"

"I'll be tellin' certain folks a few things relatin' t' the sellin' o'
this or that on the street," now observed the policeman, vaguely. "Eh,
Father Pat?"

"I'll be glad t' go along with ye," returned the other, "and if things
're as bad as they look t' be, then it's Patrick Mungovan that'll do a
bit o' rakin'!" He settled the straw hat.

"Just where d' y' live, young man?" asked the policeman.

Johnnie had guessed from the tone of the priest that a "rakin'" was
something not altogether pleasant; had concluded, too, that it would
fall to the lot of Big Tom. So he gave the address gladly, and as his
two new friends stepped forward, was himself ten feet a