. "About Mickey, you
know."

Brother looked frightened.

"She won't let us in," he said in alarm. "She thinks we threw tar on
her porch. 'Sides, can't Mickey go see her?"

"No, we want to have it all fixed for him," explained Sister patiently.
"Mickey is scared of her, too, and maybe he wouldn't go. But if she
says yes, he can work for her, he'll go work 'cause he wants the shoes.
Come on, Roddy, I'm not afraid."

"Will you do the talking?" suggested Brother.

Sister promised to "do the talking," and without saying anything to
anyone in the house, the small boy and girl set out for the "terrible"
Miss Putnam's.

In her heart of hearts, Sister was very much afraid of the cross old
lady, and when they turned in at her gate she was almost ready to run
home. But she remembered Mickey and how sadly he needed the new shoes,
so she lifted the brass knocker on the white door and waited as bravely
as she could.

"Land sakes!" gasped Miss Putnam when she came to the door. "What on
earth do you want?"

This wasn't a very gracious welcome, and Sister stuttered a little from
nervousness as she said they wanted to speak to her.

"Come in then," said Miss Putnam shortly. "Mind you wipe your feet, and
don't scratch the rounds of the chairs with your heels."

She led them into a tiny sitting-room and Brother and Sister sat down
on two hard, straight chairs while Miss Putnam took the only rocker.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"We've come about Mickey Gaffney," said Sister hurriedly. "He hasn't
any shoes to wear to school and he wants to earn money to buy 'em. He's
going to work for us, some, but school starts in about three weeks and
we're afraid he won't have enough money."

"And couldn't he work for you?" chimed in Brother bravely, determined
not to let his sister have to do all the talking.

"Why, I do need a man to do odd jobs," said Miss Putnam quite mildly.
"Is he very strong?"

You see, she hadn't listened very carefully to Sister, or else she
didn't stop to think--no man wants shoes to wear to school.

"Yes'm, he's pretty strong," Sister assured her earnestly. "He's eight
years old and big for his age."

"Eight years old!" echoed Miss Putnam. "Why, that's a mere BABY! What
can such a child do to earn money?"

"Mickey can run errands and sweep and weed the garden," recited
Brother, gaining confidence since Miss Putnam neither shouted at them
nor chased them from her house. "He can dry dishes, too--he say