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.”

“Oh, yes,” answered Mrs. Wiggs, complacently; “there wouldn’t be no trouble ‘bout Billy promotin’.  I ‘spect he could take to writin’ newspapers right away, if you could hold him down to it.  He’s jes’ like his pa—­the very spittin’ image of him!  Mr. Wiggs was so educated—­the most fluent man in jography I ever seen!”

“I’m goin’ to be like Mr. Bob when I grow up,” said Billy, stoutly.  His recollection of his paternal parent was not the sort ideals are made of.

Just here the waiter appeared with the final course, and Asia lifted the tablecloth and whispered, “Say, ’Straly, we ’ve got ice-cream.”  No answer.  Then little Europena, with baby wisdom, put her tow head under the cloth, and said, “’Traly, it’s pink!” and Australia emerged, tear-stained but smiling, and finished her supper on Mr. Bob’s knee.

When the limit of capacity had been tested to the fullest, and Billy had declared that “he couldn’t swaller no more, he was jes’ chawin’,” Redding filled their pockets with candy and, when Mrs. Wiggs was not looking, put a quarter in each hand.  Then he rang for a carriage, and, in spite of Mrs. Wiggs’s protestations, he put them in, and repeated Billy’s directions as to the exact location of the Cabbage Patch.

“My, my, ain’t this nice!” said Mrs. Wiggs, leaning back against carriage cushions for the first time in her life, while Redding lifted Europena in beside her.

“We ’ve seed a good time fer onct in our lives,” said Asia.  It was the first time she had spoken since they left the theater.

“Lemme ride up on top, ma!” demanded Billy, eagerly.

“Lemme, too, lemme!” came from the sleepy Australia, who did not know what new attraction was being offered, but was resolved not to miss anything.

“All right, Billy; but, Austry, you must stay with ma.  Good-by, Mr. Bob, and thanks—­thanks fer one an’ all!”

Redding stood on the corner where they had left him, and the smile died out of his face.  Within a block was a jolly crowd and a hearty welcome; across the street was the big apartment house where his dark and cheerless window promised him nothing.  For a moment he stood irresolute.  “There is certainly nobody to care where I go,” he thought gloomily; then suddenly the smile came back.  “But if I’m to be Billy Wiggs’s model, I guess I’d better go to bed.”  He ran lightly across the street, and up the broad stone steps.

CHAPTER VIII