Old man McCree was still sitting by the window. His extinct pipe lay on
the sill.

"Will that be you, lad?" he asked.

Danny flared into the rage of a strong man who is surprised at the
outset of committing a good deed.

"Who pays the rent and buys the food that is eaten in this house?" he
snapped, viciously. "Have I no right to come in?"

"Ye're a faithful lad," said old man McCree, with a sigh. "Is it evening
yet?"

Danny reached up on a shelf and took down a thick book labeled in gilt
letters, "The History of Greece." Dust was on it half an inch thick. He
laid it on the table and found a place in it marked by a strip of paper.
And then he gave a short roar at the top of his voice, and said:

"Was it the hippopotamus you wanted to be read to about then?"

"Did I hear ye open the book?" said old man McCree. "Many and weary be
the months since my lad has read it to me. I dinno; but I took a great
likings to them Greeks. Ye left off at a place. 'Tis a fine day outside,
lad. Be out and take rest from your work. I have gotten used to me chair
by the windy and me pipe."

"Pel-Peloponnesus was the place where we left off, and not
hippopotamus," said Danny. "The war began there. It kept something doing
for thirty years. The headlines says that a guy named Philip of Macedon,