dark, and see if you can find it there. We are going to have fireworks,
and songs, and all the fun we can."

Tip was not by any means a bashful boy, and it took a great deal to
astonish him; but this sudden invitation almost took his breath away. The
idea that Mr. Minturn had actually invited _him_, Tip Lewis, to come to
the white house!--to come near to that wonderful fountain, near enough
perhaps to feel the dash of its spray! He could have danced for joy; yet,
when Mr. Minturn said, "Well, will you come?" for the first time in his
life he was known to stammer and hesitate.

"I--I don't--know. I haven't got any clothes."

"Clothes!" repeated Mr. Minturn; "what do you call those things which
you have on?"

"I call 'em _rags_, sir," answered Tip, his embarrassment gone, and the
mischief twinkling back into his face again.

Mr. Minturn laughed, and looked down on the torn jacket and pants.

"Not a bad name," he said at last. "But you've got water at your house,
haven't you?"

"Lots of it."

"Then put your head into a tub of it, and a clean face up to my house
to-night, and we'll try and find that fun you're looking for."

And Mr. Minturn, who had spent a great deal of time for him, was passing