nor what she said to him; as if she were
taunting him and daring him--even encouraging him--to do more. "Decent
Americans!" she repeated, as he closed the window and came toward her,
the books in his hands. "Do you think _you're_ a decent American? But
they're foreigners! Ha! And you call them names! But they don't treat
children the way you've always treated us! You'd better call yourself
names for a change!"

"And I s'pose that dude left these!" Barber had halted at the table. Now
he turned to Johnnie, looking directly at him for the first time. The
next moment, an expression of mingled astonishment and rage changed and
shadowed his dark face, as he glared at the uniform, the leggings, the
brown shoes. Next, "Where did y' git _them_?" he demanded, almost
choking. He leveled a finger.

Johnnie swallowed, shifting from foot to foot. To his lips had sprung
the strangest words, "There's people that're givin' these suits away--to
all the kids." (The kind of an explanation that he would have made
promptly, and as boldly as possible, in the days before he knew Father
Pat and Mr. Perkins.) But he did not speak the falsehood; he even
wondered how it had come into his mind; and he asked himself what Mr.
Roosevelt, for instance, would think of him if he were to tell such a
lie. For a scout is trustworthy.

Once more Cis broke in, her voice high and shrill. "Oh, now he's got
something else to worry about! A second ago he was mad because he found
out you had a few books! But here you've got a decent pair of shoes to
your feet--for once in your life! and a decent suit of clothes to your
back--so that you look like a human being instead of the rag bag! And
you've got the first hat you've had since you were five years old!"

The hat was lying on the floor--to one side, where it had fallen from
Johnnie's head when Barber had thrown the boy off. Now the latter went
to pick it up, and hold it at his side. Then, standing straight, his
sober eyes on the longshoreman, he waited.

"Where'd y' git 'em?" questioned Barber. He slammed the books on the
table.

The big-girl hands worked convulsively with the hat for a moment. Then,
"The suit was--was give t' me," Johnnie faltered.

"_Gi-i-ive?_" echoed Big Tom, as if this were his first knowledge of a
great and heinous crime.

"Think of it!" shrilled Cis. "Johnnie's got a friend that's willing to
spend a few dollars on him! Isn't that a shame!"

Barber did not look at her; did not se