"My--my--my," began Johnnie, trying to think and speak at the same time, with small success in either direction. Then feeling himself pressed for time, and helpless, he fell back upon the best course, which was the simple truth. "My name's Johnnie Smith," he added. The truth was too simple to be believed, "Aw, git out!" laughed the one-eyed man, with a comical lift of the mustache. "And I s'pose y' live with the Vanderbilt fambly, eh?" Johnnie's eyes sparkled. There was in the question a certain something--an ignoring of bare facts--which made him believe that this man and he were kindred souls. "No, I don't live with 'em," he hastened to say. "But I talk to Mister Vanderbilt ev'ry day on the tel'phone." The stranger seemed neither doubtful nor amazed. Johnnie liked him better and better. Taking a fresh hold of the other's horny hand, he chattered on: "I talked to Mister Astor yesterday. He asked me t' go ridin' with him, but I had t' take a trip t' Niagarry." "Hope y' didn't hurt his feelin's none,"--the tone was grave: that one green eye looked anxious. Johnnie only shook his head. He did not care to go further with the discussion of the Astor-Smith friendship. However, the one-eyed man himself turned the conversation, "Goin' back home t'night?" he wanted to know. Johnnie raised startled eyes. "N-n-no," he returned. "I-i-if I was to, I'd have to take a terrible lickin'." "Mm." The one-eyed man seemed to understand; then, presently, "Your paw?--or your maw?" "No relation at _all_," protested Johnnie. "Just the man where I live." "He feeds y' O. K.," put in the other. "I was noticin' back yonder in the chuck-house how plump y' are." Johnnie said nothing. There were things he could tell, if he wanted to, which had to do with comparisons between Aunt Sophie's table and Big Tom's. But these things would contradict the one-eyed man; and Johnnie knew from experience that grown-ups do not like to be contradicted. Just ahead was that great palace, lifting dark towers against the glowing night sky. If the one-eyed man lived there, if the palace actually contained a garden (and it seemed large enough to contain any number of gardens), Johnnie wanted, if possible, to spend some time under that vast roof. So it was wise not to say anything that might bring him into disfavor; especially when what he wanted most now was shelter and a reading light. He grasped the other's hand firmly and flashed up what was intended for a beguiling smile. "He don't ever feed me like _you_ do," he declared, with dazzling diplomacy. The compliment was grandly passed over. "But he shore dresses y' tiptop!" was the next assertion. At that, some inkling of the other's real meaning came to Johnnie. He tried, but in vain, to catch that single eye. But even in the half light it was busy taking in every detail of Big Tom's shirt and trousers. "Y'--y' think so?" Johnnie ventured, ready to laugh.