electricity, and "I'll push Grandpa's wheel chair all
across the top o' N'York!" he declared.

Father Pat did not laugh at this think. On the contrary, he thought it
both practical and grand. Indeed, he laughed at none of Johnnie's ideas,
and would listen in the gravest fashion as the boy described a new
think-bicycle which had arrived from Wanamaker's just that
minute--accompanied by a knife with three blades and a can opener. The
Father agreed that there were points in favor of a bicycle which took up
no room in so small a flat, and required no oiling. And if Johnnie went
so far as to mount the shining leather seat of his latest purchase and
circle the kitchen table (Boof scampering alongside), the priest would
look on with genuine interest, though the pretend-bicycle was the same
broomstick which, on other occasions, galloped the floor as a dappled
steed of Aladdin's.

As a matter of fact, Father Pat entered into Johnnie's games like any
boy. Unblushing, he telephoned over the Barber clothesline. More than
once, with whistles and coaxings and pats, he fed the dog! He even
thought up games of his own. "Now ye think I'm comin' in alone," he said
one morning. "That's because ye see nobody else. But, ho-ho! What
deceivin'! For, shure, right here in me pocket I've got a friend--Mr.
Charles Dickens!"

On almost every visit he would have some such surprise. Or perhaps he
would fetch in just a bit of news. "I hear they're thinkin' o' raisin' a
statoo o' Colonel Roosevelt at the Sixth Avenoo entrance to Central
Park," he told Johnnie one day. "And I'm informed it's t' be Roosevelt
the Rough Rider. Now at present the statoo's but a thought--a thought in
the minds o' men and women, but in the brain o' a sculptor in
particular. However, there'll come a day when the thought'll freeze into
bronze. Dear me, think o' that!"

At all times how ready and willing he was to answer questions! "Ask me
annything," he would challenge smilingly. He was a mine, a storehouse,
yes, a very fountain of knowledge, satisfying every inquiry, settling
every argument--even to that one regarding the turning of the earth. And
so Johnnie would constantly propound: How far does the snow fall? Why
doesn't the rain hurt when it hits? Do flies talk? What made Grandpa
grow old?

Ah, those were the days which were never to be forgotten!

There came a day which brought with it an added joy. So often Johnnie
had mourned the fact that he did not have more