"But ever since I've married Jennie I've lived. Jennie never talks much about what she's cooking. But she'll let you come in the kitchen and lift the kettle lids if you want to and poke around and never once let on that you're a nuisance. And she never gets angry if you dig into the fresh bread or crack the frosting on the new cake. So take it all in all I've always considered all this talk about married life being nothing but self-sacrifice just so much rot--why--hello, Sammy!" This to a little overall-clad figure that was pressing itself insinuatingly against the back gate. "Want to come in and help with the tools?" called Frank, well knowing that that jar of Jennie's preserves was perfectly visible from that back gate. Sammy said hello and sure he'd come in and help, and did with remarkable speed. When he came up to the two men he looked shyly at Frank's assistant and said, "Hello! What are _you_ doing around here?" And the tall stranger laughed and said he was helping with the tools too. And then Frank asked Sammy if his mother allowed him to eat between meals and Sammy said, "Oh, sure--I kin eat any time at all--it never hurts me." So Frank got him nicely started. In no time at all however two other figures appeared and swung themselves up on the back fence. They sat quietly, at first waiting for some one to discover them. Both men had their backs to the fence now and Sammy, though perfectly aware of the new arrivals, was selfishly busy. So presently two pair of bare feet began to swing harder and harder and a careless but piercing whistle began to challenge a selfish world's attention. Frank winked at his helper and said nothing nor moved. The whistle became shriller. And then came a sudden suspicious silence that evidently made Sammy a little uncomfortable. He knew just about what was coming. "Hello--Pieface," came one gentle greeting. "Hello--Dearie," chirped the owner of the second pair of bare feet. "Look at Mother's Darling feeding his face!" "Isn't he cunning! Isn't he cute!" A third figure swung itself to the top of the fence. "Don't fill your little tummy too full, Sammy dear," it contributed dutifully. At the malice and scorn that fairly dripped from the words Sammy raised resentful eyes from his slice of bread and jam. Frank smiled hopefully. "Oh, Frank, Sammy goes to Sunday-school he does." "Every Sunday--don't ya, Sammy?" "Bet he goes to Sunday-school just to sponge. Bet he's a grafter--bet he--" But at this point Frank's helper turned about and faced the fence. And a strange thing happened. The three little figures sitting in a row gave one look, one shout of, "Holy gee--it's _him_!" and vanished as suddenly as they had come. Frank laughed and then grew puzzled.