audible response.

Had the boy looked at the kindly face, he would have seen that the deep
set eyes were a-twinkle with suppressed merriment, but he was too
conscience-stricken to do anything but slink from the office to the
school yard.

There he found that the news of his downfall had been spread among the
fast increasing throng of boys who scampered over the pavement in
breakneck games of tag or made tops perform miraculous tricks as they
waited for the school bell to ring. Not a few jeered at him. One or two
little girls who were passing stuck out their tongues. Even Sid DuPree
and Silvey and the rest of the "Tigers" had only derisive laughter.

It was the first time in his life that he had been made to feel
ridiculous and he liked it not at all. He felt strangely out of place
and stood to one side of the yard, a scowl on his face, glaring at the
throng of merrymakers. Anyway, the proceeds of his escapade were in his
pockets; that was more money than any of the scoffers owned. He shook
the coins consolingly.

A boy darted past. "Y-a-a, Johnny will try to fool the doctor!"

The scowl deepened, then vanished suddenly. "Hey!" he bellowed to an
astonished group near him. "Come on, all of you, over to the school
store."

They filed, a perplexed, noisy throng, into the cramped room. The
proprietress gasped. John swaggered forward.

"Here," said he, with the air of a young millionaire throwing away
twenty-dollar tips, "I want forty-five cents' worth of six-for-a-cent
lemon drops. Give each of these kids two and save the rest for me, if
there is any rest!"

Then he strutted out, a veritable lord of creation. His pockets were
empty, but little he cared. The clamor in the school store was as sweet
music to his ears, for it meant that his status among his play-fellows
was restored. His bump of conceit no longer ached. So he knew that the
victory was worth the price and again he felt at peace with the world.

CHAPTER IV

IN WHICH A TERRIFIC BATTLE IS WAGED

The following morning was clear and sun-shiny. Silvey, his trousers'
pockets strangely distorted, sprinted down the street and halted on the
cement walk in front of the Fletcher house.

"Oh, John-e-e-e! Oh, John-e-e-e!"

John appeared at an upper window in answer to the ear-piercing call. He
carried a dustrag in one hand, and an expression of extreme discontent
was on his freckled face.

"What you want?"

"Come on out."

"Can't." Disgruntled pes