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“Far be it from me to say. Probably not. They do say these film stars shake everybody that knew ’em when they was kids. Still, Stella—I mean Peggy—might remember the red-head who washed her face in snow so hard she told the teacher.”

“Did you wash Peggy Dorr’s face in snow?” There was awe in the question.

“I sure did, worse luck!”

“Why worse luck?”

“Because the teacher told the principal, and I got licked.”

“Peggy Dorr got you licked?”

“I’ll say she did.”

“Weren’t you proud?”

“Huh! Remember, kid, she was Stella Krumpenheimer then.”

Carmella sighed.

“Say, kid,” he went on, “how’d you like to see a Peggy picture some evening, when I’m off? I promise not to laugh.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” the girl answered eagerly.

As Dixon drove her toward Doty Street they were busy devising a code by which he could telephone her, and she could answer without revealing her message to her assembled family.

Carmella entered the house, hearing trouble inside as the door opened. Maria was scolding Giuseppe, while the boy sulked. Carmella tiptoed to where she