tenant of the
building, no neighbor from other, near-by flats, and not a single member
of that certain rough gang which haunted the area, the dark halls
leading into it, and all the blocks round about.

Indeed, no! Even in his "thinks" Johnnie was most careful regarding the
selection of his companions, his social trend being ever upward. And he
was never small about any crowd of his, but always had everybody he
could remember who was anybody--a riot of famous people. On this
occasion he was reaching into truly exclusive circles. Naturally, then,
this was a well-dressed assemblage, strikingly equipped with silk hats
(there were no ladies present) and gold-headed canes; and every
gentleman in the gathering wore patent-leather shoes, and a vest that
did not match his coat. All were smart and shaven and wealthy. In their
lead, uniformed in khaki, and wearing the friendliest look possible to a
young man who is cheering, was His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.

Like all the others in that wildly enthusiastic gathering, the young
heir apparent was turned toward Johnnie as toward a hero. And small
wonder. For there, between the distinguished crowd and the boy, lying
prone upon the red carpet, in his oldest clothes, and unshaven, was none
other than Big Tom Barber, felled by the single, overwhelming blow that
Johnnie had just given him, his nose bleeding (not too much, however)
and the breath clean knocked out of him.

Now the shouting died away, and Johnnie addressed the admiring throng.
But his lips moved without even a whisper. "I made up my mind a long
time ago," he began, "to give Tom Barber a good thrashin'. So this
morning, I done it."

Despite his ungrammatical conclusion, the speech called forth the
resounding hurrahs of the Prince and his gentlemen, and once more
Johnnie had to wait, striving to appear properly modest, and twirling a
gold watch chain all of heavy links. But he could not keep his nostrils
from swelling, or his eyes from flashing. And his chest heaved.

It was now that he made Cis one of his audience, dressing her in a
becoming pink gown (her favorite color). Old Grandpa was standing beside
her, no longer feeble and chair bound, but handsomely overcoated and
hatted, and looking as formidable as any policeman. These two, naturally
enough, had only proud glances for the young champion of the hour.

But Johnnie's task of subduing Barber was not finished. The brave boy
could see that the big longs