ittle things 'round the place. And
the minute my back's turned, what does he do? Nothin'! I come back, and
look!"

Mrs. Kukor, having seen Johnnie out of the room, turned about. Then,
smoothing her checked apron with her plump hands, she glanced at Barber
with a deprecating smile. "I haf look," she answered. "Und I know.
But--he wass yust a poy, und you know poys."

"I know boys have t' work," came back Barber, righteously. "If they
don't, they grow up into no-account men. When his Aunt Sophie died, I
promised her I'd raise him right. The work here don't amount to
nothin',--anyhow not if you compare it with what I done when _I_ was a
boy. Why, on my father's farm, up-state, I was out of my bed before
sunup, winter and summer, doin' chores, milkin', waterin' the stock,
hoein', and so on. What's a few dishes to _that_? What's a bed or two?
and a little sweepin'? And look! He ain't even washed the old man yet!
And I like to see my father clean and neat. That's what makes me so
red-hot, Mrs. Kukor--the way he neglects my father."

"Chonnie wass shut up so much," argued Mrs. Kukor.

That cast whitened Big Tom's eye anxiously. He did not want Johnnie to
hear any talk about going out. He hastened to reply, and his tone was
more righteous than ever. "No kid out of this flat is goin' to run the
streets," he declared, "and learn all kinds of bad, and bring it home to
that nice, little stepdaughter o' mine! No, Mrs. Kukor, her mother'd
haunt me if I didn't bring her up nice, and you can bet I'll do that.
That kid, long's he stays under my roof, is goin' t' be fit t' stay. And
he wouldn't be if he gadded the streets with the gangs in this part of
town." While this excuse for keeping Johnnie indoors was anything but
the correct one, Big Tom was able to make his voice fervent.

"But Chonnie wass tired mit always seeink the kitchen," persisted the
little Jewish lady. "He did-ent go out now for a lo-ong times. I got
surprises he ain't crazy!"

"That's just what he _is_!" cried Big Tom, triumphantly. "He's crazy! Of
all the foolishness in the world, he can think it up! And the things he
does!--but nothin' that'll ever git him anywheres, or do him any good!
And lazy? Anything t' kill time--t' git out of honest work! Now what
d'y' suppose he was doin' with this clothes line down? and talkin' out
loud to himself?"

"Niaggery! Niaggery!" piped old Grandpa, smiling through his tears, and
swaying against the rope that crossed his ches