, he is, cast under the
feet o' a pig!"

"Y' can cut that out!" said the longshoreman. Putting down his pipe, he
crossed the room to the priest.

Father Pat got to his feet, but he did not retract. "Ye old buzzard!" he
stormed. "Do ye dare t' lift yer hand against the servant o' God?"

Big Tom fell back a step then, as if remembering who the man before him
was. "Jus' the same, y' better go," he returned. "From now on, y' better
keep out o' this!"

"I'll go," answered the priest, calmly, "when I'm tossed out o' the
windy--or the door. But I'll not go by me own choosin'. I'm not lastin'
long annyhow, so ye can drop me into the court if ye like. Then the law
will take ye out o' the way o' these dear children."

Barber clenched and unclenched his fists, yearning to strike, yet not
daring. "Go home and mind y'r own affairs," he counseled.

"Me own affairs is exactly what I'm mindin'," retorted the Father. Then,
mournfully, "Oh, if only I had me old strength! If me lungs wasn't as
full o' holes as a sieve! I'd say, 'Tom Barber, come ahead!' And as
God's me witness, I'd thrash ye within' a inch o' yer black life!" And
he shook a finger before the longshoreman's nose.

Mrs. Kukor was giving Johnnie some milk. He whispered to her, fearing
from the look in her dark eyes that she was blaming herself bitterly for
what had happened to his books. "Don't y' worry," he pleaded; "it
wasn't nobody's fault. And if y' hadn't kept 'em upstairs long as y'
did, he'd 've burned em 'fore ever I learned 'em."

"Chonnie!" she gasped. Concerned for the safety, yes, even the lives, of
the two she loved, she had forgotten to inquire the fate of that
basketful. Now she knew it! "Oy! oy! oy! oy!"

"Aw, shut up y'r oy-oy's," scolded Big Tom.

Father Pat had heard Johnnie, and understood him. "But we'll not be
carin' about anny crazy destruction," he announced cheerfully; "for,
shure, and there's plenty more o' 'em on sale in this town."

Johnnie stared up, trying to comprehend the good news. "The _'xact_ same
ones?" he asked.

"Little book lover, I'll warrant there's a thousand o' each story--if a
man was t' take count."

"Oh!"

The Father knelt. "Lad, dear!" he exclaimed tenderly. "Faith, and did ye
think that ye owned the only copies in the _world_ o' them classics?"

Now Johnnie fully realized the truth. "Oh, Father Pat!" he cried, and
fell to laughing aloud in sheer joy.

"God love the lad!" breathed the priest, ready to weep wi