"Did you let the water out of the tub?"

"No, Master. I didn't know."

Ben got up, and Pete followed him, eager for the lesson. Ben viewed the color of the water frothing with suds.

"I think you must be clean," he remarked dryly, as he opened the waste-pipe, "or at least you will be after a few more ducks."

"Yes, Master, to see her."

He showed the boy how to wash out the tub which the little fellow did with a will.

"Now, then, to bed with you, and we'll have an early breakfast, for we have a busy day to-morrow. Good-night."

Pete ambled away to the garage so happy that he still felt himself in a dream. To see his G.o.ddess, and never to go back to Rufus Carder! Those two facts chased each other around a rosy circle in his brain until he fell asleep.

When Ben Barry came out of his room the next morning he found Pete squatting outside his door. He regarded the broken, earth-stained shoes and the ragged coat and trousers, which if they had ever been of a distinct color were of none now, and the thick mop of hair. The eyes raised to his met a gay smile.

"h.e.l.lo, there," said Ben. "Did you think I might get away?"

The dwarf rose. "I--I didn't--didn't know how much--much was a dream,"

he stammered.

"I hope you had a real breakfast," said Ben.

The dwarf smiled. It was a dreary, unaccustomed sort of crack in his weather-beaten face. "I had coffee, too," he replied in an awestruck tone.

Ben laughed. "Good enough. You go out to the car and wait till I come.

I'm going to my breakfast now."

In less than an hour they were on their way. Pete's eyes had lost their dullness.

Ben drove to a department store, on a small scale such as the cities boast. He parked his car, and when he told Pete to get out the boy began looking about at once for Geraldine.

"Is she here, Master?" he asked as they entered the store.

"No, we shall see her to-night," was the reply.

Then more miracles began to happen to Pete. He was taken from one section to another in the store and when he emerged again into the street, he hardly knew himself. He was wearing new underclothes, stockings, shoes, coat, vest; even the phony legs had been cared for in the trousers, cut off to suit the little fellow's peculiar needs, and his eyes seemed to have grown larger in the process. Under his arm he carried a box containing more underwear.

Next they drove to a barber's where Pete's hair was properly cut; then to a hat store and he was fitted to a hat.

When they came out, Ben regarded his work whimsically. The boy was not a bad-looking boy. He liked the direct manner of the dwarf's grateful, almost reverent, gaze up into his own merry eyes. There was nothing shifty there.

When they reentered the roadster, Ben spoke to him before he started the car.

"Do you know why I have done all this, Pete?"

The boy shook his head. "Because you came down out of the sky?" he questioned.

"No, it is just because you took care of Miss Melody; because you put those letters underneath her door."

Pete's face crimsoned with happiness. "I helped her--I--I helped her get away," he said.

"Yes, and she will never forget it, and neither will I."

"You--you--asked me if I loved her," said Pete, his mind returning to the day of the motor-cycle visit.

"Yes, and you did, didn't you?"

"Yes, and--and when she was gone up to--to heaven, I wanted to die till I--I remembered that she--she wanted to go."

"Yes, wanted to go just as much as you did, and more. Now _that_ life is all over, Pete. Just as much gone as those old clothes of yours that we left to be burned. You've been a faithful, brave boy, and Miss Melody and I are going to look after you henceforth."

Pete couldn't speak. Ben saw him bite his lip to control himself. The roadster started and moving slowly out of the town sped again along a country road.

CHAPTER XIII

The G.o.ddess

On the same day Geraldine and Miss Upton were patronizing the department stores in the city and getting such clothing as was absolutely necessary for the girl. Geraldine's purchases were rigidly simple.

"I think you're downright stingy, child," commented Miss Upton when the girl had overruled certain suggestions Miss Mehitable had made with the fear of Ben Barry before her eyes.

"No, indeed. Don't you see how it's counting up?" rejoined Geraldine earnestly. "All these things on your bill, and no telling how soon I can pay for them."

Miss Upton noticed how the salesgirls appreciated the beauty they had to deal with, and she was in sympathy with their efforts to dress Geraldine as she deserved.

There were some shops into which the girl refused to enter, and it was plain to her companion that these had been the scenes of some of her repulsive experiences.

Also they shunned the restaurant where they had met; and every minute that they were on the street Geraldine held tight to Miss Upton's substantial arm.

"I shall be so glad when we get home," she said repeatedly.

"Now, look here," said Miss Upton, "there's one thing you've got to accept from me as a present. You're my little girl and I've a right to give you one thing, I hope."

"I'd much rather you wouldn't," returned Geraldine anxiously--"not until I've paid for these."

She had changed the white dress she wore into town for a dark-blue skirt and jacket which formed the chief item of her purchases, and on her head she had a black sailor hat which Miss Upton had procured in Keefe.

"I want to give you," said Miss Upton--"I want to give you a--a droopy hat!"

Geraldine laughed. "What in the world for, you dear? What do I need of droopy hats?"

"To wear with your light things--your white dress, and--and everything."