rom China, from Treasure
Island, from Caerleon; and warning him it was time to prepare Big Tom a
meal.

The fumbling about the hall door began again. Next, the knob was
turned, slowly and uncertainly, as if by a child. Once more cutting
short that enthralling hunt for gold, Johnnie hurried back to the door
and opened it--and looked into the beady, bright black eyes of an
exceedingly old lady.

She had on a black dress which was evidently as old as herself, for in
spots it was the same rusty color as the few faded hairs, streaked with
gray, which showed from under her ancient headshawl. In one shaking hand
she held a stout cane; in the other, a slip of paper. This latter she
offered him. And he found written on it his own name and Barber's, also
brief directions for locating the building in the area.

"What's this for?" asked Johnnie. "What d' y' want me t' do? I can't
give y' anything 'cept a cup o' tea. I'm sorry, but I'm broke."

"Mm-mm-mm-mm," mumbled the old lady; then showing a double line of gums
in a smile, she plucked at his sleeve. "Father Mmmmm!" she said again.
"Ah-ha? ah-ha? ah-ha?" With each ah-a, she backed a step invitingly, and
nodded him to come with her.

Father Mungovan! A shiver ran all down him. For instantly he knew why
she had come. Running to the stove, he wet down the fire with some hot
water out of the teakettle, put away his book, brought out his own quilt
to cover Grandpa's knees, swiftly laid Big Tom's place at the table, cut
some bread, made the tea, then knocked on the bedroom door to explain
that supper was ready on the oilcloth, but that he had to go out.

If Barber made any reply or objection to that, Johnnie did not hear it.
"Father Mungovan's sick?" he asked the old lady as he followed her, a
step at a time, down the three flights.

"Sick," she assented, nodding the shawled head. "Ah-ha! ah-ha! ah-ha!"

She hobbled, and even on the level sidewalk her pace was slow. He tried
to help her, but she would not have his hand under her elbow, pulling
away from him, muttering, and pointing ahead with her stick.

"Where d' we go t'?" he asked, for it was in his mind to set off by
himself at a run. However, he could not understand what she replied; and
soon gave up trying, feeling that, after all, a boy who intended to be a
scout should not leave such a weak, aged soul behind, all alone, but
should stay to help her over the crossings. "I'm 'xac'ly like that
picture in the Handbook!" he