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Bling-ell! bling-ell! bling-ell-dee-dee! a fresh burst of melody. This time the Prince and his gentlemen were approaching, all silk-hatted, and frock-coated, and gold-caned. His Royal Highness led naturally and was assisting dear, little Mrs. Kukor as he came, and she was beaming up at Royalty, and talking at him with both pudgy hands, and rocking madly in her effort to keep step.

Johnnie drew those yellow brows together. "I wonder what Mrs. Kukor would think I ought t' do," he continued. "And and what would Mister Roosevelt do if he was me? And that boss of all the Boy Scouts " "General Sir Baden-Powell." "Yes, him. What would he think about it, I wonder? And then Edith Cavell, what would she say?" Mr. Perkins went on with his polishing.

Now he realized how he had seared the sight of his enemies as he and the Great One arrived side by side in a taxicab! Yet no one must ever know that he had been in the dark! "Why, yes, Mrs. Kukor!" he cried. "My goodness! This is a reg'lar one!" "A cowpoy!" whispered Mrs. Kukor, as if in a daze. "Pos-i-tivvle! Mit furs on hiss pants, und everythink!"

"I'm Father Patrick Mungovan, at yer service, ma'am," he said, bowing gravely. Mrs. Kukor first wiped both plump hands upon a black sateen apron. Then she extended one of them to the priest. "Glat to meet!" she declared heartily. "Und glat you wass come!" The Father shook hands warmly.

Tramp! tramp! tramp! tramp! he was as military as a major-general. "BOY SCOUTS," explained Mrs. Kukor, "wass awful stylish. Say you wass a scout, so you go in beautiful gangs for makink picnic und seeink birds, mit eatinks from goot foods, und such comes healthy for you." Cis added to that when she arrived home that evening.

By the end of his first year in the flat, the little suit he had been wearing when he came was in utter rags. Big Tom had bought him no new suit, declaring that he could not afford it. So Johnnie had had to decide between putting on some of Cis's old garments or Barber's mammoth cast-offs. He chose the latter, which Mrs. Kukor offered to alter, but Barber refused her help.

"He couldn't talk to me! I tried! He couldn't get water! Oh, I want water! Give me a drink, Mrs. Kukor!" Mrs. Kukor had risen as Cis talked, and Father Pat had come to her. There was horror in the faces of both. Standing, his back against the hall door, Barber began to laugh at them. "Aw, bosh!" he said, disgusted. "Dead nothin'! He's in the big chair there.

Kukor. As he looked up, she nodded at him. "Ah-ha-a-a-a!" she whispered, and laid one finger along her nose mysteriously. Johnnie understood that she was thinking of Big Tom. He nodded back, and put a finger to his lips. All that afternoon he was so proud, just thinking of Cis threading the crowds with Mr. Perkins at her side.

"Und so I tells to him over that, 'Goot! Goot! if he runs away! In dis house so much, it ain't healthy for him! Und I shakes my fingers be-front of hiss big nose!" Mrs. Kukor had to go then, remembering with a start that she had a filled fish cooking. She rushed out at a thumping gallop.

However, it seemed best, somehow, not to be found in that position by Mrs. Kukor. He must not take his ill-treatment lightly, nor recover from his hurts too quick. He decided to be prone and prostrated. When the little Jewish lady came swaying in to him, therefore, he was stretched flat, his yellow head motionless. The sight smote Mrs. Kukor.