rs und wash me the face, und keep
the neighbors out, und on Thursdays und on Sundays I shall go on the
hospital for see you."

"And on Saturdays," broke in Miss Bailey, "you will come to my house
and spend the day with me. He's too little, Mrs. Mowgelewsky, to go to
the synagogue alone."

"That could be awful nice," breathed Morris. "I likes I shall go on
your house. I am lovin' much mit your dog."

"How?" snorted his mother. "Dogs! Dogs ain't nothing but foolishness.
They eats something fierce, und they don't works."

"That iss how mine mamma thinks," Morris hastened to explain, lest the
sensitive feelings of his Lady Paramount should suffer. "But mine mamma
she never seen _your_ dog. He iss a awful nice dog; I am lovin' much
mit him."

"I don't needs I shall see him," said Mrs. Mowgelewsky, somewhat
tartly. "I seen, already, lots from dogs. Don't you go make no
foolishness mit him. Don't you go und get chawed off of him."

"Of course, of course not," Miss Bailey hastened to assure her; "he
will only play with Rover if I should be busy or unable to take him out
with me. He'll be safer at my house than he would be on the streets,
and you wouldn't expect him to stay in the house all day."

After more parley and many warnings the arrangement was completed. Miss
Bailey was intrusted with two dollars and ten cents, and the censorship
of Morris. A day or so later Mrs. Mowgelewsky retired, indomitable, to
her darkened room in the hospital, and the neighbors were inexorably
shut out of her apartment. All their offers of help, all their proffers
of advice were politely refused by Morris, all their questions and
visits politely dodged. And every morning Miss Bailey handed her
Monitor of the Goldfish Bowl his princely stipend, adding to it from
time to time some fruit or other uncontaminated food, for Morris was
religiously the strictest of the strict, and could have given cards and
spades to many a minor rabbi[82-1] on the intricacies of Kosher law.

The Saturday after his mother's departure Morris spent in the
enlivening companionship of the antiquated Rover, a collie who no
longer roved farther than his own back yard, and who accepted Morris's
frank admiration with a noble condescension and a few rheumatic
gambols. Miss Bailey's mother was also hospitable, and her sister did
what she could to amuse the quaint little child with the big eyes, the
soft voice, and the pretty foreign manners. But Morris preferred Rover
to