"But I wouldn't have old Grandpa left alone here," protested Mr. Perkins. "You see, there are institutions where they take the best care of old people--trained care, and suitable food, and the attention of first-class doctors. In such places, many old gentlemen stay." "But Grandpa, would he know any of the other old gentlemen?" "He would soon." Johnnie shook his head. "He'd feel pretty bad if he didn't have me." "You could go to see him often." "He'd cry after me!" urged Johnnie. "And go 'round and 'round in circles. Y' see, he's used t' me, and if I was t' let him go t' that place, he'd miss me so bad he'd die!" Mr. Perkins looked grave. "Narcissa and I would be only too glad to have him with us," he said, "but his son wouldn't let us." "Big Tom wouldn't let Grandpa go away nowheres," asserted Johnnie. "I'm sure o' that. Why, Grandpa's the only person Big Tom cares a snap about! And if Grandpa stays here, and Big Tom's sure t' keep him, why, o' course, he can't stay--alone." He paused; then, "No, he can't stay alone." Perhaps never again in all his life would he meet a temptation so strong as this one--as hard to resist. "My! what'll I do?" he asked. "What'll I do?" "You must decide for yourself," said Mr. Perkins. How he felt, Johnnie could not tell. The face of the scoutmaster was in the shadow, and chiefly he seemed taken up with the polishing of his _pince-nez_. "Y' know, I thank y' awful much," Johnnie declared, "for plannin' out 'bout me goin' and--and so on." "You're as welcome as can be!" Johnnie drew those yellow brows together. "I wonder what Mrs. Kukor would think I ought t' do," he continued. "And--and what would Mister Roosevelt do if he was me? And that boss of all the Boy Scouts----" "General Sir Baden-Powell." "Yes, him. What would he think about it, I wonder? And then Edith Cavell, what would _she_ say?" Mr. Perkins went on with his polishing. "Father Pat, he said somethin' once t' me about the way y' got t' act if y' ever want t' be happy later on, and have folks like y'. Oh, if only the Father was alive, and knew about it! But maybe he does know! but if he don't, anyhow God does, 'cause God knows ev'rything, whether y' want Him to or not. My! I wouldn't like t' have God turn against me! I'd--I'd like t' please God." Still the scoutmaster was silent. "You heard about my father, didn't y', Mister Perkins?" Johnnie asked presently. "He wouldn't be saved if my mother couldn't be, and jus' stayed on the ice with her, and held her fast in his arms till--till----" How clearly he could see it all!--his father, his feet braced upon the whirling cake, with that frailer body in his arms, drifting, drifting, swift and sure, toward destruction, but going to his death with a wave of the hand. His father had laid down his life; but his son would have to lay down only a small part of his. "It didn't take my father long t' make up _his_ mind about somethin' hard," Johnnie said proudly. "No."