Hurrying towards him, with hands not in his pockets, but full of packages, came Mr. Mintum, the owner of the grand white house on the hill. To Tip's surprise, the gentleman halted suddenly before him, and, eyeing him closely, asked, "Whose boy are you?" "John Lewis's." "Where do you live?" "T'other side of the pond, by the mill." "Oh, your father is the carpenter, I suppose,--I know him. What's your name?" "Tip." "Tip! What kind of a name is that? is it all the one you own?" "Well," said Tip, "I suppose my name was Edward when I was a little shaver; but nobody knows it now; I don't myself." "Well, Tip, then, I'll call you that, for I want you to know yourself to-night. What are you going to do?" "When? to-night? Oh, hang around, I s'pose,--have some fun, if I can find any." "Fun. Is that what you're after? You come up to my house to-night at dark, and see if you can find it there. We are going to have fireworks, and songs, and all the fun we can." Tip was not by any means a bashful boy, and it took a great deal to astonish him; but this sudden invitation almost took his breath away. The idea that Mr. Minturn had actually invited _him_, Tip Lewis, to come to the white house!--to come near to that wonderful fountain, near enough perhaps to feel the dash of its spray! He could have danced for joy; yet, when Mr. Minturn said, "Well, will you come?" for the first time in his life he was known to stammer and hesitate. "I--I don't--know. I haven't got any clothes." "Clothes!" repeated Mr. Minturn; "what do you call those things which you have on?" "I call 'em _rags_, sir," answered Tip, his embarrassment gone, and the mischief twinkling back into his face again. Mr. Minturn laughed, and looked down on the torn jacket and pants. "Not a bad name," he said at last. "But you've got water at your house, haven't you?" "Lots of it." "Then put your head into a tub of it, and a clean face up to my house to-night, and we'll try and find that fun you're looking for." And Mr. Minturn, who had spent a great deal of time for him, was passing on. "See here!" he called, after he had moved forward a few steps; "if you see any boy raggeder than you are yourself, bring him along,--bring every boy and girl you meet who haven't anywhere else to go." "Ho!" said Tip, as soon as the gentleman was at safe distance; "if this isn't rich, then I don't know,--fireworks in that great yard, pretty near the fountain maybe, and lots of fun. We can take anybody we like. I know what I'll do. I'll hunt up Bob Turner; his jacket has got enough sight more holes in it than mine has. Oh, ho! ain't it grand, though?" And Tip clapped his hands and whistled, and at last, finding that didn't express his feeling, said, "Hurrah!" in a good strong tone. Yes, hurrah! Tip is right; it is glorious to think that one man out of his abundance is going to open his heart, and gather in God's poor, and, for one evening at least, make them happy. God bless Mr. Minturn!