thin fingers wound tightly around its hilt. "What's the
Piper got beside him?" he asked in a tone full of wonder. "Is it a
_rubber-plant?_"

Gwendolyn looked. The Piper was leaning over the steering-wheel of the
car. He was so near by now that she could make him out clearly--a lanky,
lean-jawed young man in a greasy cap and Johnnie Blake overalls. Over
his right shoulder, on a strap, was suspended a bundle. A tobacco-pipe
hung from a corner of his mouth. But it was evidently not this pipe that
had given him his title; but pipes of a different kind--all of lead, in
varying lengths. These were arranged about his waist, somewhat like a
long, uneven fringe. And among them was a pipe-wrench, a coupling or
two, and a cutter.

Beside him on the seat, in the foot man's place, was a queer object. It
was tall, and dark-blue in color. (Or was it green?) On one side of it
were what seemed to be seven long leaves. On the other side were seven
similar leaves. And as the car rolled swiftly up, these fourteen long
leaf-like projections waved gently.

She had no chance to examine the object further. Something else claimed
her attention. The windowed door of the limousine suddenly swung wide,
and through it, toward her, was extended a long black beckoning arm.
Next, a freckled face filled the whole of the opening, spying this way
and that. It was Jane!

"Come, dearie," she cooed. (She had let go the front tongue-tip.) "I
wouldn't stay with them two any more. Here's your beautiful car, love.
_This_ is what'll take you fast to your papa and mamma."

"_No!_" cried Gwendolyn. And to the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, "She was
'fraid of the Piper just a little while ago. Now, she's riding around
with him. _I_ think he's--"

"Ssh!" warned the little old gentleman, speaking low. "We have to have
him. And he has his good points."

The Piper was staring at Gwendolyn impertinently. Now he climbed down
from his seat, all his pipes _tinkling_ and _tankling_ as he moved, and
gave her a mocking salute, quite as if he knew her--yet without removing
the tobacco-pipe from between his lips, or the greasy cap from his hair.

"Well, if here ain't the P.L.R.G.," he exclaimed rudely.

As she got a better view of him she remembered that she _had_ met him
before--in her nursery, that fortunate morning the hot-water pipe
burst. He was the very Piper that had been called in to make plumbing
repairs!

"Good-evening," said Gwendolyn, nodding courteously--but sta