n Big Tom's voice. "Been wastin' oil, have y'?
Come! When did y' light it? Answer up!"

"I didn't light it," replied Johnnie, calmly glancing round, his chin on
his shoulders.

"No? Then what _did_ y' do? Hey? What?"

"Just took it down 'n' rubbed it."

"M-m-m!--Well, y' made a poor job of your rubbin'. I'll say that!"

"I'll rub it again," said Johnnie. He caught up the dish towel with
which he had dried his own face and set to work on the lamp. There was a
faint smile on his lips as he worked. There was a smile in his eyes,
too, but he kept his lids discreetly lowered.

His whole manner irritated Barber, who sauntered to the table, took a
careful survey of it, drew out the drawer, looked it over, then dropped
into the morris chair to pull on his socks. Now he sensed, as had Cis
the day before, that the air of the flat was charged with
something--something that was strange to it. He did not guess it was
happiness. But as Johnnie moved quickly between sink and stove, between
cupboard and table, Big Tom watched him, and thrust out that lower lip.

While the business of breakfast was on, instead of standing up to the
table for his bowl of oats, Johnnie made sandwiches for the two lunches.
Hot tea, well sugared, went into Barber's pail. Another tin compartment
Johnnie packed with the cooked prunes. A third held slabs of corned-beef
between bread. Sour pickles were added to these when he filled Cis's
lunchbox, which closely resembled a camera. And now the wide-open, fixed
look of his eyes, the uplift at the corners of his mouth, his swelled
nostrils and his buoyant step told Cis that he was engaged in some
adventure, high and stirring.

But Barber, still watching the boy sharply, made up his mind that the
punishment of the day before had done a lot of good. In fact, it seemed
to have brought about a complete transformation. For during the two or
three minutes that Big Tom allowed himself after eating for the filling
of his pipe, Johnnie swept the table clear, washed, dried and put away
the dishes, and was so far along with his morning's work that he was
wiping off the stove.

Leaving, Barber omitted his usual warnings and directions; and did not
even wait outside the door for a final look back, but went promptly
down, as the creaking stairs testified, and out, as told by the sucking
move and gentle rattle of the hall door.

It was Cis who lingered. When the flat was clear of her stepfather, she
fairly burst from