keep both
vessels filled was a heavy task, and waste of water was regarded as
little short of a crime. The sacredness of the barrel and its contents
was a mystery to Keith until he grew old enough to do some of the
carrying. Then he began to understand.

Most of the water went to the stove, where operations of one kind or
another were carried on from morning till night, tempting the boy with
their mysteries or their promises. In the uppermost corner of the hood
was a square opening covered by an iron lid. When the lid was down and
you crawled right up into the fire-place, you could see the sky through
the chimney.

One day, when Keith had sneaked into the kitchen uninvited, he noticed
something unusual going on in the fire-place. All the paraphernalia had
been cleared away. The lid was open, and from the chimney issued strange
noises. Then soot began to fall in masses, and finally appeared a pair
of human feet, quite bare and all black.

It was very funny and very disconcerting. Keith watched with bulging
eyes and trembling heart, until at last a whole big man came out of the
chimney. As he crouched for a moment on the fire-place before getting
down on the floor, he turned on Keith a pair of eyes that seemed to be
all white and big as moons.

At that moment fear got the better of curiosity, and Keith made haste to
bury his face in Granny's lap.

"Yes, Keith had better look out," grinned the servant girl, "for the
chimney sweep takes all bad little boys."

"I'll take you, if you talk like that," the black figure in the
fire-place shot back at her.

The tone of his voice made Keith steal another glance at him. The white
eyes shone right at him in a rather friendly fashion, and further down a
huge red slit in the black face framed two rows of teeth no less white
than the eyes. Keith guessed that the dark visitor from the chimney was
smiling at him in a fashion that seemed to bode no harm.

In another minute the man was gone, and Keith hurried back to the
living-room to ask a question of his mother:

"Could he really take me?"

"Not unless we gave him leave," she replied. "But sometimes, when little
boys are very, _very_ bad, their parents turn them over to the sweep as
apprentices, because they are not good for anything else."

Keith thought long and hard.

"I ain't bad," he declared at last.

"Not exactly," his mother remarked diplomatically "But you could be a
great deal better. What were you doing in th