a little. "And I'm awful sorry he's
dead.--But please go on, Father Pat. I want t' hear 'bout him. Though if
the story's very sad, why, I'm 'fraid that Cis'll cry."

"I won't," promised Cis. "But--but if the story tells how he died, I
don't think I'll look at the picture--not just yet, anyhow."

The priest laid the photograph, face down, upon the table. "It isn't
that Miss Narcissa'll cry," he argued; "but, oh, what'll we say t' this
young lady when she sees _us_ weep?--for, little lad dear, this is a
tale--" He broke off, then and there, as if about to break down on the
spot. But coughed, and changed feet, thus getting control of himself
once more, so that he was able to go on.

"This young man I'm tellin' about lived in Buffalo," continued the
Father. "Now that city is close t' the noble Falls that ye're so fond o'
visitin' with Grandpa. Well, one day in the Spring----"

"Scuse me! Last spring?" Johnnie interrupted.

"Eight long springs ago," answered the Father. "Which would make ye
about two years o' age at the time, if me arithmetic is workin' fairly
well t'day."

"Two is right," declared Johnnie, with the certainty of one who has
committed to memory, page by page, the whole of a book on numbers.

"But as ye were all o' four years old at the time," corrected the
priest, "eight springs ago would make ye twelve years old at this
date----"

"_Twelve?_"

"Ha-ha-a-a-! Boy scout age!" reminded the Father.

At that, Johnnie, quite overcome by the news, tumbled sidewise upon
One-Eye's hairy knees, and the cowboy mauled the yellow head
affectionately. When the Westerner set Johnnie up again, "So ye see Mr.
Barber shoved yer age back a bit when ye first came here," explained the
priest. "And as ye was shut in so much, and that made ye small for yer
years, why, he planned t' keep ye workin' for him just that much longer.
Also, it helped him in holdin' ye out o' school."

One-Eye's mustache was standing high under the brown triangle of his
nose. The single eye was burning. "Oh, jes' fer a good _ex_-cuse!" he
cried. "Fer a chanst! Fer a' openin'! And--it'll come! It'll come! I
ain't goin' t' leave Noo York, neither, till I've had it!"

If Cis caught the main drift of all this, Johnnie did not. "I'd like t'
be able t' send word t' Mister Perkins!" he declared. "Oh, wouldn't he
be tickled, though!--Cis, I can be a scout--this minute!" Then
apologetically, "But I won't int'rrupt y' again, Father Pat. I know
better,