ls und says you likes you should see him in the
school, on'y he runs by a cellar und don't says nothings. He puts him on
just like he was here, und he had awful cold looks. Teacher, he ain't
got no hat, and the snow was coming by his hair. I looks in the cellar
und I had a 'fraid over it the whiles nothings stand in it on'y
push-carts und boxes."

"But do you think that he lives in the cellar?" queried Teacher.

"He don't _lives_ at all," replied Morris. "He don't _boards_ even. He
runs all times."

"Runs?" queried Miss Bailey.

"Teacher, yiss, ma'am, runs. He lays in sleep by barrels; comes
somebody, und he runs. He lays in sleep on sidewalks by bak'ry stores
where heat and smell comes; comes somebody, und he runs. He lays in
sleep by wagons, maybe, maybe by stables where horses is, und straw.
_All_ places what he could he lays in sleep, und _all_ places where he
lays comes somebody und he runs."

"What's he always running from, Morris?"

"Teacher, I dun'no. He ain't got no 'fraids. I guess maybe he don't
likes nobody shall make nothings mit him. I tells him how you says he
shall come on the school, und what you think? He hits me a hack in mine
face, und runs on the cellar."

"I'd like to see him hit me," said Patrick Brennan, son of the Policeman
on the Beat, a noble scion of a noble sire. "Me pop he wouldn't stand
fer no funny play," and urged by Miss Bailey's friendly attitude toward
Morris, he boasted, "I'll bring him to school if ye want me to; I ain't
afraid of him." And one afternoon some days later he did appear with his
"new little friend."

It had taken six big boys, Patrick, and the janitor to secure his
attendance, and he hardly reaped the benefit which so much effort
deserved, for, except that he was thinner and in a wildly blazing
passion of indignation, his second attendance at Room 18 was much like
his first.

Again his studies were interrupted for several days, and it was the
Truant Officer who next restored him to the Halls of Learning. Between
these two appearances Morris had procured further intelligence.

"That new boy," he began as always, "that new boy he is in bizzness."

"So that's the reason that he fights against school!" cried Teacher,
well accustomed to the interference of the sweat shop. "I'm very glad to
know his reason for staying away. I was beginning to fear he was not
happy here--that he didn't like us."

"Teacher, he don't," said Morris, with the beautiful candor which