guardian says. You know, guardians 're
awfully stylish. Girls have them in books, and in the movies. Yesterday
somebody was telling at the factory about----"

She had caught his interest, taking it from that fresh worry. His arms
about her, his head resting against her shoulder, they talked on and on,
in whispers. When Barber came stomping in, and ordered them to be quiet,
Johnnie forsook the little blue room; but he could not sleep, and stole
to the roof for a breath of fresh air.

The night was the most beautiful he had ever seen. Or was it the joy in
his own heart that made everything seem so perfect? How deeply blue were
the patches of star-sprinkled sky showing between clouds of dazzling
white! How sweet and live was the air driving cityward from the sea! And
the moon! As it came slipping from cloud to cloud, as round as the
washtub, and nearly as large, it seemed to Johnnie to have a face that
he could see plainly. And that face, full and fat, was laughing!

CHAPTER XXIII

ROSES THAT TATTLED

"CIS BAR-R-BER-R-R! Cis Bar-r-r-ber-r-r! Cis Bar-r-r-ber-r!"

It was the shrill voice of the Italian janitress, calling up from the
area, and the summons was peremptory and impatient.

The day was Sunday, so that Cis, as well as Big Tom, was at home. At the
moment the longshoreman was humped over the sink, rinsing his bluish
jowls after a shave. Cis was beside him, standing at the kitchen window.
The day before she had been told by a girl friend that one side of every
person's face is always better-looking than the other side; and now she
was holding up in front of her the broken bit of mirror while, as she
turned her head delicately, now this way, now that, she tried to decide
between the merits of the two views.

"Cis _Bar_--rber!" sounded the call again, this time with an added note
of annoyance.

Cis transferred her attention to her nose. Recently a certain somebody
had told her one or two things about that nose. She was considering
this, aided by the glass. "My! That janitress is getting bossier and
bossier!" she remarked somewhat languidly.

Johnnie, bent over his violets, paused with a flower half done. He
marveled at her lack of curiosity, envying her for it. How grandly
grown-up she was! As for him, he was fairly on pins and needles to know
what it was the janitress wanted. "St! st!" he hissed cautiously
(Barber's head being just then buried in the roller towel). He tried
hard to catch her eye.