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 cab man and they were led to the first floor front by a neat and smiling landlady, who, before leaving, stooped to pat the head of Bateese.

“And how old might he be, ma’am?” she asked.

Patty hesitated and then came a dual answer.

“Five,” said Patty.

“Seven,” said Pat.

They paused in confusion and the landlady came to the rescue, saying with a nod at Pat, “Now ain’t that just like these men; their heads is so full of business they don’t even remember the ages of their own children. So he is five. He is fine an’ fleshy for his age; a healthy one, I guess.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Patty, looking out of the window.

“What is your name, my little man?” Rh