,--they were always telescoped then. And nothing
had ever been said between the two boys about legs. About arms, yes,
and eyes, ears, noses,--never legs. If Morry understood the kind
little device to save his feelings, an instinctive knowledge that any
expression of gratitude would embarrass Jolly must have kept back his
ready little thank you.

"Can you hunt up things?" demanded the small host with rather
startling energy. He was commonly a quiet, self-contained host.
"Because there's a word--"

But Jolly had caught up his cap, untelescoped the kind little legs,
and was already at the door. Nothing pleased him more than a
commission from the Little White Feller in the soft chair there.

"I'll go hunt,--where'd I be most likely to find him?"

The Little White Feller rarely laughed, but now--"You--you Jolly
boy!" he choked, "you'll find him under a hay-stack fast aslee-- No,
no!" suddenly grave and solicitous of the other's feelings, "in the
dictionary, I mean. _Words_, don't you know?"

"Oh, get out!" grinned the Jolly boy, in glee at having made the
Little White Feller laugh out like that, reg'lar-built. "Hand him
over, then, but you'll have to do the spellin'."

"Rec-om-pense,--p-e-n-_s_-e," Morry said, slowly, "I found it in a
magazine,--there's the greatest lot o' words in magazines! Look up
'rec,' Jolly,--I mean, please."

Dictionaries are terrible books. Jolly had never dreamed there were
so many words in the world,--pages and pages and pages of 'em! The
prospect of ever finding one particular word was disheartening, but
he plunged in sturdily, determination written on every freckle.

"Don't begin at the first page!" cried Morry, hastily. "Begin at
R,--it's more than half-way through. R-e,--r-e-c,--that way."

Jolly turned over endless pages, trailed laboriously his little,
blunt finger up and down endless columns, wet his lips with the red
tip of his tongue endless times,--wished 'twas over. He had meant to
begin at the beginning and keep on till he got to a w-r-e-c-k,--at
Number Seven they spelled it that way. Hadn't he lost a mark for
spelling it without a "w"? But of course if folks preferred the r
kind--

"Hi!" the blunt finger leaped into space and waved triumphantly.
"R-e-c-k,--I got him!"

"Not 'k,'--there isn't any 'k.' Go backwards till you drop it,
Jolly,--you dropped it?"

Dictionaries are terrible,--still, leaving a letter off o' the end
isn't as bad as off o' the front. Jolly retraced