is eyes. Was that
Joey, could that be his little son? Yes, it was; he would have known
him anywhere by his likeness to Emily. Their boy had her curly brown
hair, her sensitive mouth, above all, her clear-gazing, truthful grey
eyes, eyes in which there was never a shadow of falsehood or
faltering.

Joey Churchill was sitting on a stone bench in his aunt's kitchen
yard, holding one of his black-stockinged knees between his small,
brown hands. Jimmy Morris was standing opposite to him, his back
braced against the trunk of a big, pink-blossomed apple tree, his
hands in his pockets, and a scowl on his freckled face. Jimmy lived
next door to Joey and as a rule they were very good friends, but this
afternoon they had quarrelled over the right and proper way to
construct an Indian ambush in the fir grove behind the pig-house. The
argument was long and warm and finally culminated in personalities.
Just as John Churchill dropped on one knee behind the hedge, the
better to see Joey's face, Jimmy Morris said scornfully:

"I don't care what you say. Nobody believes you. Your father is in the
penitentiary."

The taunt struck home as it always did. It was not the first time that
Joey had been twitted with his father by his boyish companions. But
never before by Jimmy! It always hurt him, and he had never before
made any response to it. His face would flush crimson, his lips would
quiver, and his big grey eyes darken miserably with the shadow that
was on his life; he would turn away in silence. But that Jimmy, his
best beloved chum, should say such a thing to him; oh, it hurt
terribly.

There is nothing so merciless as a small boy. Jimmy saw his advantage
and vindictively pursued it.

"Your father stole money, that's what he did! You know he did. I'm
pretty glad _my_ father isn't a thief. _Your_ father is. And when he
gets out of prison, he'll go on stealing again. My father says he
will. Nobody'll have anything to do with him, my father says. His own
sister won't have anything to do with him. So there, Joey Churchill!"

"There _will_ somebody have something to do with him!" cried Joey
hotly. He slid off the bench and faced Jimmy proudly and confidently.
The unseen watcher on the other side of the hedge saw his face grow
white and intense and set-lipped, as if it had been the face of a
man. The grey eyes were alight with a steady, fearless glow.

"_I'll_ have something to do with him. He is my father and I love him.
I don't c