Wiggs's grave. Some day we are going to make Jimmy one; you know
Jimmy's my boy that's dead." Her eyes filled and her lips
trembled; even the sunshine of her buoyant nature could not dispel
one shadow that always lay across her heart.

At this moment Billy, doubtless thrilled at being the topic of
conversation, upset his glass of water, and the deluge descended
full upon Australia, drenching the waist of the blue alpaca. Such a
wail as arose! Threats and persuasion were alike unavailing; she
even refused to be mopped off, but slid in a disconsolate heap under
the table. Redding attempted to invade the citadel with an orange as
a flag of truce, but his overtures were ineffectual, and he was
compelled to retreat under fire.

"I'd leave her be, Mr. Bob," advised Mrs. Wiggs, placidly, as she
spread her salad on a piece of bread. "She'll git to holdin' her
breath if you notice her."

The shrieks gradually diminished to spasmodic sobs, which in turn
gave place to ominous silence.

"Billy," said Redding, taking Mrs. Wiggs's advice and ignoring the
flood sufferer, "how would you like to be my office-boy?"

"I'd like it a heap," answered Billy, promptly.

Redding turned to Mrs. Wiggs. "You see, it's a newspaper office,
and while the pay isn't much at first, still it's better than
peddling kindling, and there would be a chance for promotion as he
got older."