“Why, I do need a man to do odd jobs,” said Miss Putnam quite mildly.  “Is he very strong?”

You see, she hadn’t listened very carefully to Sister, or else she didn’t stop to think—­no man wants shoes to wear to school.

“Yes’m, he’s pretty strong,” Sister assured her earnestly.  “He’s eight years old and big for his age.”

“Eight years old!” echoed Miss Putnam.  “Why, that’s a mere baby!  What can such a child do to earn money?”

“Mickey can run errands and sweep and weed the garden,” recited Brother, gaining confidence since Miss Putnam neither shouted at them nor chased them from her house.  “He can dry dishes, too—­he says he does ’em for his mother.”

Miss Putnam thought for a few moments.

“I’m going to need someone to do errands for me this winter when I can’t get around,” she said slowly.  “And I’ve about broke my back in the garden this summer.  But boys are noisy, careless creatures —­I don’t know as I could stand a boy around me.”

“Oh, Mickey is nice,” Sister hastened to explain.  “He’s going to grow up and support his mother.  He won’t make any more noise than he can help.”

Miss Putnam smiled grimly.

“I guess that’s true,” she said.  “Well, tell your Mickey to come round and see me, and if he doesn’t charge too much, perhaps we can suit each other.”

Brother and Sister trotted home, well-pleased with the success of their errand.  It was something to have secured the promise of more work for Mickey.

“There he is now!” exclaimed Brother, spying the flaming red head of the Gaffney boy ahead of them.  “Hey, Mickey!”

Mickey was on his way to the grocery store for soap, he informed them.

“Wait a minute,” said Brother.  “We want to tell you—­Daddy says you can help Jimmie and Ralph in our garden and they will pay you, by the hour, Ralph says.  And Miss Putnam says you can run errands for her.”

“Miss Putnam?” repeated Mickey, surprised.  “Miss Putnam wouldn’t have a boy in her yard.”

“Yes, she will,” declared Sister.  “She said so.  And you can run errands after school this winter when she can’t get around—­she said so, didn’t she, Roddy?”

Brother nodded.

“It would be kind of nice to have a job this winter, wouldn’t it?” said Mickey thoughtfully.  “My mother would like that.  Well, if you’re sure Miss Putnam won’t come out with a broom when she sees me, I’ll go.”

“No, she won’t,” Sister assured him.  “I don’t believe she’s so cross when you know her.”

“’Cept about tar,” said Brother sorrowfully.

Mickey looked at them, mystified.

“What about tar?” he asked.  “Has Miss Putnam any?”

CHAPTER XXII

MICKEY OWNS UP

Brother told Mickey the tar incident in a few words.

“And you can’t make her believe Betty and I didn’t put it on her porch,” he concluded.  “She’s just ’termined we did it.”