"Meanin' long for 'rip'?" Pippin leaned forward eagerly, with pleading eyes and voice. "He sure was, lady! Yep, Old Man Blossom was a rip from Riptown, and so remains; but yet there never was any _harm_ in him. What I would say--he's a crook, and a bo, and not the guy for family life anyways you look at it; but he never was a _mean_ guy. He never hit from behind; there was no sandbaggin' in his; just he'd give you one on the jaw if he couldn't cop the swag without, you see. Now that's square, you see, _for_ a crook! But--" Mrs. Faulkner's eyes glared wholly unresponsive. He glanced at Mrs. Appleby, and seeing, or thinking he saw, a faint glimmer that might mean an inward twinkle, addressed himself to her. "You see how 'tis, lady! And now he's on the blink--that is, near his end, you see, and he wants his little gal; wants her bad. And--bein' a bo myself, it ain't for me to p'int out things to ladies like youse, but if she's the kind of gal like you say, mightn't she think, say, 'Well, after all, he's my dad, and I'm his kid, and 'twon't do me a mite of harm to give him a look in.' What say?" "You say he is dying?" said the elder woman. "Has he suffered any change of heart? Does he repent of his evil ways?" "Not yet he ain't!" Pippin flushed and his hands clenched; he seemed to hear the snicker once more. "But the way I look at it is this, lady!" He bent forward again, all shyness gone now, his brown face aglow. "'Look out for the grace of God!' says Elder Hadley to me. 'Wherever you look for it, you'll find it!' he says. 'If you don't,' he says, 'it's your own fault, for it's sure there somewhere!' he says. Well, I tried, honest I did, to find grace in Old Man Blossom, and all I could find was he wanted his little gal. So--well! What I would say, God moves in a myster'ous way, His wonders to _per_form; (sung to 'Albayno,' common metre, fine hymn, though a mite sober!) and how do I know but wantin' his little gal was the way was took by--by Them as has the handlin' of things--" a reverent jerk of the head toward the sky--"and--well--that's the way it struck me!" Pippin concluded lamely. The tears stood in Mrs. Appleby's kind eyes, and even Mrs. Faulkner's severity was perceptibly abated. "We only want to be sure--" faltered the former. "We _must_ be sure!" said the latter. "Yes--of course we must. Pippin, I believe all you say--" she glanced a trifle defiantly at her assistant--"because I cannot help it. I am sure you have told us the truth; but we cannot take action--we cannot tell you where Mary Fl--where the young woman is, until we have _proof_ of your respectability and the steadiness of your purpose. You will understand that, I am sure. Well--now! Bring us a note from Mr. Hadley, and we will tell you where she is, and will recommend her employ--that is, the people with whom she is staying--to allow her to visit her father. This is all we can do!" She rose as she spoke, and held out her hand; Pippin grasped it heartily.