"No one," he began icily, "_no_ one--not even Mrs. Sawyer presumes to come beyond that threshold"--he broke off and frowned impatiently, feeling his power of aloofness threatened by something in Jimsy's eager stare which claimed a kinship of interest.... There was an alarming suggestion of intimacy anyway in a midnight scene with a tailless dog, a boy clad in your own night-shirt--and an inferential person with an eye by the name of Sweeny.... Why did a ridiculous frozen sense of guilt impede his tongue now when rebuke was imperative?... Why on earth had a look of relief and understanding supplanted the puzzled friendliness of Jimsy's supper-time stare?... So might a dog look who had waggled in friendly perplexity at the foot of a flawless statue only to find that the statue held in its hand a lowly but perfectly comprehensible bone ... and the dog's attitude of course toward the flawless statue would never be quite the same--nor-- "James," said the first citizen hoarsely, "go to bed!" [Illustration] "Aw," said James softly, "make it Jimsy. Aunt Judith did. I ain't no stiff wit' spinach an' buttons chasin' newsies off the porch." "Jimsy!" said the first citizen faintly, and felt his world rock about him again. For fate and Jimsy, it was very plain, had filed the word away with the biscuit. [Illustration] Jimsy's grin was radiant. Upset, Mr. Sawyer turned back to his bench with Jimsy at his heels. "Oh, Lordy, Lordy," breathed the boy in an ecstasy of admiration. "Makin' a Christmas present fur Aunt Judith on the sly, ain't ye? Won't she jus' open her eyes! _I_ bet! And polishin' the wood yerself. Gee!" Mr. Sawyer cleared his throat. "Mrs. Sawyer and I," said he, "do--not--exchange--gifts--at Christmas. This cabinet is for my private office at the bank." Jimsy's face fell. "Aw," he said gently, "seems like ye'd orta give her sumthin' fur Christmas. She's so awful good.... B'long to the union?" "I--I beg your pardon?" "Carpenters' union. Jack Sweeny does." The first citizen froze. "Carpentering with me," he explained stiffly, "is a fad--not an occupation or a necessity. I," he added "am President of the Lindon Bank." Jimsy's glance was sympathetic. It regretted the world's gain of a bank president at the expense of a better carpenter. "I kin plane," he pleaded eagerly. "Honest Injun, I kin. I kin whittle too, like ol' Scratch. Lemme plane this--" "I thank you," began Mr. Sawyer coldly, with unfortunate selection of words, "but--" His voice faltered under Jimsy's shining gaze. For, reading in the formal repudiation a vote of thanks, Jimsy had seized a plane and set to work. [Illustration]