"Shucks, is that all?"

"Yes."

"That ain't worth no nickel."

"Aren't you going to give me that nickel?" threateningly.

"That ain't worth more'n a penny. How do I know whether it'll work?"

"Perry Alford's worked, and so did mine, and Bill Silvey's, Olaf's,
Carl's, and the country kid's."

"The other kids aren't paying you no nickel."

"They are, too. Ask Mickey and his brother, and the Shepherd kids.
They're going to be sick this afternoon, and they've paid me."

"I can go to Olaf," asserted the would-be dead-beat. "He'll tell me what
you told him, and it'll only cost a penny."

"He'd better not! I'll smash his face in if he does. _Are you going to
give me that nickel?_"

"Naw, I ain't."

John clenched his fists belligerently. His debtor raised both arms in a
posture of defense. The principal tiptoed noiselessly around the end of
the fence. John sparred for an opening and his opponent spied the
approaching figure.

"Jiggers! Old man Downer!" he yelled. "Beat it quick!"

John turned, only to meet the principal's firm grasp on his shoulder.

"Come up to the office," said the quiet voice. "I want to have a talk
with you."

He led the way to the center doors, an entrance reserved for the use of
such awe-inspiring mortals as the faculty, visiting school
superintendents, and parents. Up the dingy wooden stairs, worn at either
end by the innumerable shuffling feet which had passed over them, they
went, and into the bleak little office.

"Sit down," said Mr. Downer.

John collapsed into an uncomfortable wooden chair and gazed about him.
There were the same desk, the same window box, filled with geraniums and
pansies, and the same dun wall that he had seen on previous visits,
prompted by his various sins. There was only one change. Opposite him, a
newly framed head of Washington looked down from the wall in cold
disapproval of the culprit who, for once in his brief life, felt
strangely small and subdued.

There were no questions; the principal had heard too much from his
vantage point beside the fence. So he talked on and on and on in even,
severe tones, of notes mailed to parents, of suspension notices, of
school board action, and of interviews with Mr. Fletcher, until John,
staring, motionless, at a panel in the big oak desk, felt his lower lip
quiver. Then the gray-haired man desisted.

"But I hope none of these measures will be necessary, John," he
concluded.

"N-no, sir," came the scarcely