turnstiles once more, and Shultz glared at
him angrily.

"What you trying to do?"

John explained. He wanted to make a little pocket money.

"Well you can't here. G'wan home before I smash your face!"

"Won't," stubbornly. "Got just as much right as you here."

There was a pause. "Well are you going?" asked the "Jefferson's"
captain.

"No!"

"I'll make you." He advanced, fists doubled. They circled around and
around on the pavement, each looking for an opening through the other's
guard. Suddenly the bigger boy lunged forward and his fist went true to
the mark--John's nose. They sparred again, now feinting forward, now
stepping backward, like two young turkey cocks. A tall, blue-clad,
brass-buttoned figure rounded the corner, and Shultz raised the alarm.

"Cheese it, the cop!"

They broke for cover, each in the direction of home and parental
protection, while the guardian of the peace stood and laughed at the
fleeing figures.

Once well down the street, John pulled up, panting, and rubbed his nose.
That kid had certainly hit it. The organ hurt like the mischief, and
felt as if it were three sizes too big. He hoped it wouldn't be like
that at school, Monday.

He heard a familiar voice, "Hello!"

He turned quickly. Louise, and at this, of all times!

"What you been doing?" She looked at his face curiously.

He forced a smile. "Fight, that's all."

"Did he hurt you much?"

"Only here." John pointed to the injured appendage and added, "Gee, you
ought to see him. Black eye, and his lip's bleeding something fierce!"
His lady must never know that he came out second best in the battle.

Suddenly he turned a-tremble from the reaction of his feelings. He
wished his feminine playmate down town, over in the park, any place
where she couldn't talk to him. He wanted to get home, to have mother's
gentle hands lay cooling bandages on his nose, and his eyes began to
fill with tears. For in spite of his air of defiance, he had been beaten
and the knowledge stung him into a poignant longing for sympathy.

Louise, with the intuition of her sex, changed the subject.

"Look what I've got," she held a brown package at arm's length. "Sugar
from the grocer's. Mother's going to teach me how to bake, this
afternoon. Want to watch?"

He nodded gratefully and went with her to the flat where that memorable
party had been held. In the airy kitchen, Mrs. Martin instructed Louise
in the mysteries of mixing flour, spices, and m