ken unknown to
her--obliterated all traces of the water systems, and the hard spray was
splashed against the windows just long enough to splatter the sashes
well. The dirtiest places on the steps met with a half-hearted scrub or
two before he reeled up the hose. A moment later, with the rake over one
shoulder, and the lawn mower trailing noisily behind him, he set off to
find Silvey.

A noisy whistle in front of his chum's house brought no answer. An
ear-splitting clamor of "Oh, Silvey-e-e-e; Oh, Silvey-e-e-e, come on
out. Come on out!" brought his mother to the door.

"Bill's gone down town with his father," she said crossly. "Won't be
back until dinner time."

Shucks; everything was going wrong. If Silvey wasn't on hand, he'd have
to pitch in alone.

Around the corner he went, the mower still beating a noisy tattoo over
the pavement, past the big new apartment building with flats which
actually rented for a hundred dollars a month, and down to the long row
of older houses, erected when land was cheap, and set far back from the
walk; still on past foot after foot of trim grass plots, through a
mud-puddle in the street which held more water than was good for the
already rusty blades, and across to the opposite sidewalk before he
found a prospect of employment.

He swung back the gate and tiptoed up the weathered steps. The window
shades were down and the cobwebs hung thick on the porch railings and
under the eaves. Yet the place was occupied, for he had noticed a
homeless cat dragging an unsavory meal from a well-filled garbage pail
at the side. He rang the bell once, twice, thrice, before the door
opened.

"Want the lawn cut?" he asked of the wrinkled, tremulous dame who faced
him.

She shook her head, angry at being disturbed. He walked down the walk
mournfully.

It was clear that there was no revenue to be gained this day. So he
turned toward the home street and dropped the mower into the area way
just loudly enough to bring Mrs. Fletcher to the side window.

"That you, son? Run up to the corner and get some lamb chops, that's a
good boy." She tossed him a half-dollar. "And get ready for dinner when
you come back."

He set off thoughtfully, for the problem of earning still annoyed him.
He hated to fall down on the newly made resolution the very first week.
If it were only winter and a heavy snow falling! Then he'd make money
quickly enough, but in late autumn--why folks wanted to walk to the
corner for