WONDERING TOM 131

“ Certainly,” said Tom, straightway beginning to scrape
together a big pile. “What shall we put them in?”

“Into my apron. They ’re for poor Katy, the apple-
woman. She lives in an old shed in Slorter’s cattle-yard.
She ’s sick, Tom, and she has n’t a thing to make a fire
with.”

“Oh, if that’s it,” said Tom, “we must get her up a
cart-load of waste stuff, if the boss is willing.”

The boss spoke up :

“ Help yourself, Tom. You ’re the steadiest lad in the
shop, and you ’ve never asked me a favor before. Help
yourself. Take along all those odds and ends in the cor-
ner yonder. Chips and shavings soon burn up.”

“ Much obliged to you, sir,” said Tom ; and he added in
a lower tone to Wisk, “I ’ll load up and take ’em ’round
to her as soon as I’ve done my work. You can carry your
apronful now.”

Wisk held up the corners of her apron while Tom filled
it, laughing to see how she lifted her pretty chin so that he
might pile in a “good lot,” as she called it.

“ There !” he exclaimed at last, “that ’s as much as you
can manage.”

“Thank you, Tom. Oh, how kind you are! I was as
sure as anything that you ’d know just what to do. Thank
you again, Tom,” and she started at once.

“Wisk !”

He had followed her to the door. When she turned
back, in answer to his call, he tried to speak to her, but
coughed instead.

“Did you want me, Tom?” she asked, demurely.

“Yes, Wisk. I—I wanted to say that—that J—”