please 'm don't ask him, please 'm don't!"

In Jimmy's voice was something of terror, and his hands slipped in
and out of his trousers' pockets with nervous, frightened movements.
His usually merry little mouth with its pale lips quivered oddly, and
in his eyes, as he turned away, were tears I could not understand.

I put my hand on his shoulder, lifted his face to mine. "What is it,
Jimmy? What has happened that you don't want me to ask Mr. Johns to
tell Mr. Pritchard you can go with me? Why are you afraid?"

"I ain't afraid. Yes 'm, I am. I--I've been docked once to-day.
Please 'm don't ask Mr. Pritchard nothing! High-Spy makes him punish
me whenever--"

"Punish you!" I straightened indignantly. "Why does he punish you?
What right--"

"I don't mean licking. But he keeps me out of the room when I'm sent
out, and docks me at the end of the week. Mother needs every cent.
She's back in the rent. I was sent out to-day."

"But why? What were you doing?"

"Nothing--leastways I didn't mean to. There wasn't none of us sick
this morning, and Billy Coons was acting down behind High-Spy's back,
and I tried not to laugh. She don't let us laugh. But she said I
did. I didn't laugh--" Jimmy's voice was protesting. "I just
smiled and it--it busted."

"Is that why she made you go out of the room?" I turned away and
looked out of the window lest the accident to Jimmy's smile be mine.
"Is that why she sent you out?"

He nodded. "Mr. Pritchard kept me out an hour. Sometimes he lets me
make it up at lunch. I was going to ask him to let me to-day, but--"

"I'm preventing. I'm glad of it! When are you going to eat your
lunch?"

"I've done et it--" Jimmy's tongue moistened his lips. "I et it on
my way here this morning. I got paid off last night and I took out
five cents and gave the rest to mother, and this morning I bought a
pie with it and et up every bite. It might have been hooked when I
was out the room, so I'm glad I didn't save none. I got it at
Heck's. He keeps the best pies in town for five cents. They're real
fat."

I was paying little attention to Jimmy. At the open window I could
see a young girl across the street with a baby in her arms. She had
brought it from a small frame house with high steps leading to a
sagging porch, in the door of which a large and kindly-faced woman
was standing, arms folded and eyes watching the movements of the
girl. As the latter lifted her head, on