Jacky, glaring up at the big man who interfered with his joys, told his
father what _he_ thought:

"If I was seven years old, I'd lick the tar out of you! But I'm six,
going on seven."

Maurice, looking down on this miniature self, was, to his astonishment,
quite diverted. "You need a licking yourself, young man! Is your mother
at home?"

Jacky wouldn't answer.

Maurice took a quarter out of his pocket and held it up. "Know what that
is?"

Jacky, advancing slowly, looked at the coin, but made no response.

"Come back to the house and find your mother, and I'll give it to you."

Jacky, keeping at a displeased distance behind the visitor, followed him
to his own gate, then darted into the house, yelled, "Maw!" returned,
and held out his hand.

Maurice gave him the quarter and went into the parlor, where the south
window was full of plants, and the sunshine was all a green fragrance of
rose geraniums. When a shiningly clean, smiling Lily appeared--evidently
from the kitchen, for she was carrying a plate of hot gingerbread--she
found Maurice sitting down, his hands in his pockets, his long legs
stretched out in front of him, baiting Jacky with questions, and
chuckling at the courageous impudence of the youngster.

"He's no fool," said Maurice to himself. "This kid is a handful!" he
told Lily ... "You're a bully cook!"

"You bet he is!" Lily said, proudly. "Have another piece? I've got to
take some over to Ash Street for that poor old man.... Oh yes; I _was_
kind of put out at his daughter. Wouldn't you think, if anyone was
enough of a lady to wash your father, you wouldn't go to the Board of
Health about her? But there! The old gentleman's silly, so I have to
take him some gingerbread.... Say, I must tell you something funny--he's
the cutest young one! I gave him five cents for the missionary box, and
he went and bought a jew's-harp! I had to laugh, it was so cute in him.
But I declare, sometimes I don't know what I'm going to do with him,
he's that fresh!"

"Spank him," Maurice advised.

Lily looked annoyed; "He suits me--and he belongs to me."

"Of course he does! You needn't think that I--" he paused; something
would not let him finish those denying words: "that _I_--want him."
Jacky, standing with stocky legs wide apart, his hands behind him, his
fearless blue eyes looking right into Maurice's, made his father's heart
quicken. Jacky was Lily's, of course, but--

So they looked at each other--the big,