half-bad in winter
when the afternoons were short, but now that spring had arrived, there
were so many delightful demands on a boy's time. He counted the coins in
his pocket, and made a mental calculation of the number of papers
actually needed.

"Give me all you've got," he demanded of the astonished delicatessen
proprietor. That thin-haired, shaky-fingered gentleman counted the
papers on the black news stand.

"There's one for ol' Miss Anderson, an' one for--"

"Never mind them," John broke in excitedly. "Give me all your papers!
You've got to!"

At that, the number was pitifully inadequate for his demands. He
retraced his steps to the corner and hurried over to the suburban
railroad station. There, the leader of the "Jefferson Toughs" was trying
to dispose of the last of his wares.

"Let's have 'em all," said John. His rival gazed at him in amazement.

"Quit your kiddin'," he ejaculated finally.

"Honest 'n truth," John assured him. "Missed the paper wagon, and I've
got to fix my customers, somehow."

Next, he ran westward to the little school store to beg Miss Thomas to
disappoint her steady patrons for just this once. The search led him far
beyond the university buildings and the gray-stone flat which had marked
the limits of their hitching trip in February, down to the business
street with its rattling surface cars which lay a full mile west of
John's home. He returned by a side street, four blocks to the north,
stopping at the numerous little stationery and notion shops on the way.
Even with that, certain staid and substantial customers were horrified
to find that the yellowest of yellow newspapers had supplanted their
conservative favorite, that evening.

He came home tired and footsore, and went wearily to bed after a
half-eaten supper. The business which he had built up so zestfully in
the autumn had enfettered him, and was shaping his leisure moments like
an inexorable machine, and the realization of it gave him moodily
thoughtful moments during the remainder of the week.

Sunday, blessedly work free, was warm and sun-shiny. As soon as he had
eaten dinner, he grabbed his battered cap from the hall chair and
started for the door.

"Going for a walk," he explained to Mrs. Fletcher as she looked up from
the Sunday paper.

"Louise going with you?"

"Not much! Silvey'n me are going on a real walk. We don't want to feed
squirrels on an afternoon like this."

It was as if the entire city's popula