down soft hat, and a few jerks of a newspaper could have made
such a metamorphosis.

"Youse'll catch on in no time now, pardner," resumed the boy
soothingly, "an' I'm mighty glad I was here ter set ye goin'. Sure, I
sells poipers meself, I does, an' I knows how 't is. Don't look so
flabbergasted. 'T ain't nuttin'. Shucks! hain't fellers what's
pardners oughter do a turn fur 't odder?"

The Millionaire bit his lip. He had intended to offer money to this
boy, but with his gaze on that glowing countenance, he knew that he
could not. He had come suddenly face to face with something for which
his gold could not pay.

"Th-thank you," he stammered embarrassedly. "You--you were very kind."
He paused, and gazed nervously back toward the street. "I--I was
expecting some one. We were going to take that boat."

"No! Was ye? An' he did n't show up? Say, now, dat's tough--an'
T'anksgivin', too!"

"As if I cared for Thanksgiving!" The words came tense with bitterness.

"Aw, come now, furgit it!" There was a look of real concern on the
boy's face. "Dat ain't no way ter talk. It's T'anksgivin'!"

"Yes, I know--for some." The man's lips snapped shut grimly.

"Aw, come off! Never mind if yer pal did n't show up. Dere 's odders;
dere 's me now. Tell ye what, youse come home wid me. Dere won't be
no boat now fur a heap o' time, an' I 'm goin' ter T'anksgive. Come
on! 'T ain't fur. I'll wheel ye."

The man stared frankly.

"Er--thank you," he murmured, with an odd little laugh; "but--"

"Shucks! 'Course ye can. What be ye goin' ter do?--set here? What's
the use o' mopin' like dis when youse got a invite out ter
T'anksgivin'? An' ye better catch it while it's goin', too. Ye see,
some days I could n't ask ye--not grub enough; but I can ter-day. We
got a s'prise comin'."

"Indeed!" The tone was abstracted, almost irritable; but the boy
ignored this.

"Sure! It's a dinner--a T'anksgivin' dinner bringed in to us. Now
ain't ye comin'?"

"A dinner, did you say?--brought to you?"

"Yeaup!"

"Who brings it?"

"A lady what comes ter see me an' Kitty sometimes; an' she's a
peacherino, she is! She said she 'd bring it."

"Do you know--her name?" The words came a little breathlessly.

"You bet! Why, she's our friend, I tell ye! Her name is Miss Daisy
Carrolton; dat 's what 't is."

The man relaxed in his chair. It was the dearest girl in the world.

"Say, ain't ye comin'?" urged the boy,