ent Johnnie pell-mell for a cup of water and made Cis wait in
concern beside the morris chair.

The cough quieted soon, and again Father Pat was able to talk. "Did ye
ever hear another lad like him?" he inquired of no one in particular.
"Ah, God love him! He doesn't mind his rags, only he wishes that they
fit! Dear, dear, rich, little, poor boy!"

After he was gone, Johnnie and Cis sat in silence for a good while,
their young hearts being too full, and their brains too busy, for
speech. But at last, "Oh, why didn't we ever know him before!" mourned
Cis. "He lives close by, and he's not afraid of _anything_!"

"He's my friend for life!" vowed Johnnie. "And, oh, Cis, this is who's
like Galahad!--not Mister Perkins at _all_! Mister Perkins is like--like
Sir Percival, that's who _he's_ like. But Father Pat (don't y' _love_
the name!) he could sit on the Per'lous Seat, y' betcher life!--Oh, if
_only_ his hair wasn't red!"

When she had assured him that red was a most desirable color for hair,
since it meant a splendid fighting spirit, he had to know all she could
tell him about priests, which was a good deal. "They can marry you, and
they can bury you," she began. "And they preach, and pray about a
hundred times as much as anybody else, and that's one reason why he's so
good. If you've done anything wicked, though, you've got to tell a
priest about it, and----"

"I'll tell him about the toothbrush," promised Johnnie. "I won't mind
tellin' him, some way or other, anyhow, and it's bothered me, Cis, quite
a lot--oh, yes, it has!"

Cis did not mind the Father's knowing about their bargain; provided,
however, that she herself be allowed to tell Mr. Perkins. She felt
better already in her conscience, she declared, and even sang as she set
about rearranging her roses. Each one of these she named with a girl's
name, Johnnie assisting; and the two were able, by the curl of a petal,
or the number of leaves on a stem, or some other tiny sign, to tell Cora
from Alice, and Elaine from Blanchefleur, and the Princess Mary from
Buddir al Buddoor, as well as to recognize Rebecca, and Julia, and
Anastasia, and Gertie, and June--and so on through a list that made
little godmothers to the rosebuds out of Cis's favorite acquaintances at
the paper-box factory.

Big Tom had little to say when he returned, but that little was pleasant
enough. When he went to bed, he left his door wide. Grandpa had been
allowed to stay beside the kitchen win