he
other.

Billy's face fell instantly. "If you don't take the kindlin', I'll
have to give you back the tickets. Ma don't 'low us to take nothin'
that way."

"But I don't need the kindling; haven't any place to put it."

"Ain't you got no home?" asked Billy, incredulously.

"No," answered the man, shortly.

The idea of any one, in any walk of life, not having use for
kindling was a new one to Billy. But he had no time to dwell on it,
for this new complication demanded all his attention.

"Ain't there nobody you could give it to?" he asked.

The gentleman was growing impatient. "No, no; go along; that's all
right."

But Billy knew it would not be all right when he got home, so he
made one more effort. "How'd you like to send it out to Miss Hazy?"
he inquired.

"Well, Miss Hazy, not having the pleasure of my acquaintance, might
object to the delicate attention. Who is she?"

"She's Chris's aunt; they ain't had no fire fer two days."

"Oh!" said the man, heartily, "take it to Miss Hazy, by all means.
Tell her it's from Mr. Bob, who is worse off than she is, for he
hasn't even a home."

An hour later there was wild excitement under the only tin roof in
the Cabbage Patch. Such scrubbing and brushing as was taking place!

"It's jes' like a peetrified air-castle," said Mrs. Wiggs, as she
pressed out Asia's best dress; "here I been thinkin' 'bout it, an'
wantin' to go, an' here I am actually gittin' ready to go! Come
here, child, and let me iron out yer plaits while the iron's good
an' hot."

This painful operation was performed only on state occasions; each
little Wiggs laid her head on the ironing-board, a willing sacrifice
on the altar of vanity, while Mrs. Wiggs carefully ironed out five
plaits on each head. Europena was the only one who objected to being
a burnt-offering, but when she saw the frizzled locks of the others,
her pride conquered her fear, and, holding tight to Billy's hand,
she bent her chubby head to the trying ordeal.

"Now, Billy, you run over to Mrs. Eichorn's an' ast her to loan me
her black crepe veil. Mrs. Krasmier borrowed it yesterday to wear to
her pa's funeral, but I guess she's sent it back by this time. An',
Billy--Billy, wait a minute; you be sure to tell 'em we are goin'
to the show." Mrs. Wiggs vigorously brushed her hair with the
clothes-brush as she spoke. Australia had thrown the hair-brush down
the cistern the summer before.

"Asia, you go git the alpaca from behind t