ly mix those last drinks on me. I heard you
snickering when he did it."

"Never mind; it will go off," Mrs. Trott said, and she sat down on the
edge of the bed. "It always does. Listen to me, Jane. Something has
happened to John."

"Happened? What do you mean?" Jane softly moaned and gagged, her hand at
her thin throat.

"Why, I don't know! That's what I want to see you about. Somebody must
have been meddling--talking to him. He has a queer look in the eyes. He
fairly glared at me and spoke to me-- Well, he never did the like
before. I was--was actually afraid of him. It looked to me once as if he
was going to pounce on me. Do you remember how Judge Manis talked to us
the day he remitted our fine, dismissed the court, and talked to us in
private?"

"My God! woman," Jane groaned, desperately, "what are you--"

"John looked and talked like the judge did," Mrs. Trott ran on, with a
little impatient wave of her hand. "I was glad he went to his room.
There is no telling what he would have said about us both. Somebody has
been meddling, I tell you, putting notions in the boy's head. Oh, he has
changed--changed!"

"Spoiled, by that new job, I reckon," Jane Holder whined. "The new
outfit Sam Cavanaugh gave him has stuck him up. Boys turn like that all
of a sudden when they reach the gosling stage. He has been dreamy all
his life, and he is getting his eyes open and thinks he is the whole
show. You will have to put up with it, that's all."

"I don't know what to make of it-- I don't, I don't!" Mrs. Trott stood
up, sighed heavily, yawned, and left the room. Outside she met Dora
coming from John's room.

"I asked him what he wanted for dinner," the child remarked, "but he
said he wasn't going to eat here. He's going down to the
restaurant--said he didn't want me to cook and drudge for him. He is
funny, Mrs. Trott. He is not one bit like he used to be."

"I don't care where he eats," Mrs. Trott answered, wearily. "We haven't
much in the safe, anyway. Is the flour all gone?"

"Yes'm, and the coffee and bacon. I used the last sprinkling of flour
for the batter-cakes yesterday."

"Well, stop the grocery-wagon the next time it goes by," Mrs. Trott
concluded. "Tell the boy I'll have that money for him to-day. You left a
great litter out in the yard. Go clean it up. If you have to play, play
in the back yard. People passing will talk about the way you look."

CHAPTER XIX

That night at the supper-table Cavanaugh