ed sunshine and under the trees. And
everybody is going to be invited--everybody who belongs."

The child's brow clouded. "Everybody who belongs? Why, can't Uncle Felix
come?"

"Certainly, he can come. He 'belongs.'"

"And--Fudge?"

"What, that little devil of a dog? Yes, he can come, if he promises
to behave himself," and he shook his head at the culprit. "And all the
chippies can come. Lots of 'em, and perhaps a couple of robins, if they
haven't gone away south. And there's a big Newfoundland dog, or was
before he was stolen, that could have swallowed this gentleman down
at one gulp, but he won't now. HE 'belonged' and always has. And, of
course, you 'belong' and so does Sam and so do I. We go out every
other week and sit under these very same trees. Sam paints the branches
wiggling down in the water, and I do leaky boats. When I get the picture
home, I put Jane Hoggson fishin' in the stern."

Masie rolled her eyes.

"And you don't take her with you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"'Cause she don't 'belong.' Great difference whether you belong or not.
Jane Hoggson couldn't 'belong' if she was to be born all over again."

O'Day now joined in. He had been watching Masie, noting the lights and
shadows which swept over her face as the old painter chattered away.
He always welcomed any plan for giving her pleasure, and was blessing
Ganger in his heart for providing the diversion.

"And where is all this to take place, Mr. Ganger?" Felix asked at last.

"Up on the Bronx. A place you know nothing of and wouldn't believe a
word about if I should tell you--not 'til you see it yourself. It's as
full of birds and butterflies as England along the Thames, or one of
those ducky little streams out of Paris. And it only costs five cents to
get there and five cents to get back. And you won't be more than a few
hours away from your shop. Fine, I tell you, you'll never forget it."

Again Felix broke in.

"I have not a doubt of it, but when is all this to take place?"

Ganger gave a little start and grew suddenly grave.

"Well, as to that, you see the day is not yet fixed, not precisely. In
a week maybe, or it may be two weeks. This is Sam's party, you know, and
he hasn't completed all his arrangements--that is, he hadn't completed
them when I left him this morning. And, of course, a lot has to be
done to make everything ready"--here he nodded at Masie--"for little
princesses and great ladies in plumes and satins. But it is certain