A swift shove of his elbow saved the fingers of a small boy who thought he knew better, and sent him back upon his more prudent neighbors. Shouts resounded. "Jimmy got his!" "Yeh! Jim-_may_! You got yours!" The culprit faced round with crimson cheeks and doubled fists. He had only been at the Home a few weeks, and fighting was still his one form of argument; a snub-nosed, freckled bull pup of a boy. Pippin observed him, and liked his looks. "Say!" said Pippin. "Look at here! Want to hear her sing?" "Hear who sing, Mister?" "The wheel! Stow your noise a sec., while I ask her." He bent over the wheel and seemed to speak and listen. The children waited open-mouthed, goggle-eyed. "Says she's got a cold," he announced cheerfully, "and feels bashful beside! Say, I'll have to sing for her. What say?" "Yep, Mister! Do, Mister! Sing, Mister!" came in chorus. "O.K. You'll have to keep still, though. I'm bashful myself, you see. Now then--Where's the smallest kid? Here, kiddy! Come to Pippin! Don't be skeered, he won't bite nuther. Gimme your hands--that's a daisy! Now then-- "There was an old man, And he was mad--" When the Matron appeared again, accompanied by an older woman of severe aspect, Pippin was sitting on the cellar door, half-buried in children. One little imp was sitting astride his neck, hammering time on his chest with sturdy heels; a six-year-old girl clung to either shoulder, two or three more were on his knees, the rest sat or knelt or squatted as close as they could get; and Pippin, his head thrown back, his eyes fixed on the maple leaves overhead, was shouting at the top of his lungs: "Darling, I am growing o-hold! Silver threads among the gold Shine upon my brow to-day-hay, Life is fading fast away!" As the song ended, before the Matron could make her presence known, the bull pup known as Jimmy fell silently upon his nearest neighbor, a boy somewhat bigger than himself, and pommeled him ferociously. The victim shrieking aloud, Pippin seized the pup by the scruff of his neck, dragged him off, and held him at arm's length, wriggling and clawing the air, his eyes darting fire. "What ails you?" demanded Pippin. "What d'he do?" "Didn't do nothin'!" wailed the bigger boy. "He picked on me!" raged the smaller. "Didn't neither!" "Did teither! And pinched m' leg beside! Lemme go!" "Yeth, Mithter!" piped a five-year-old. "He did pinch him! I thee him do it!" "Hold still, pup! hold still! I'm bigger'n you be. Now then, you, leave him be, you hear me? I expect you did pinch him all right, all right; you look like a pincher. Now look at here! Can you wrestle, you two?" "Betcher life!" "Nope!" came in a fiery yap and anguished yelp from the two. "Green grass! What are you made of? Putty, or dough-scrapin's?" This to the yelper, while still holding the yapper well in hand. "Now if we could make a ring, and leave you fight it out sensible, and--"