always cowed before Lily. Once she had turned and
stared at him when he had emerged triumphant
but with bleeding nose from a fight; then she had
sniffed delicately and gone her way. It had only
taken a second, but in that second the victor had
met moral defeat.

He looked now at her pale, really scared face, and
his own was as pale. He stood and kicked the dust
until the swirling column of it reached his head.

"That's right," said Lily; "stand and kick up
dust all over me. WHAT have you been doing?"

Johnny was trembling so he could hardly stand.
He stopped kicking dust.

"Have you killed your aunt?" demanded Lily.
It was monstrous, but she had a very dramatic im-
agination, and there was a faint hint of enjoyment
in her tragic voice.

"Guess she's just choked by dust," volunteered
Johnny, hoarsely. He kicked the dust again.

"That's right," said Lily. "If she's choked to
death by dust, stand there and choke her some more.
You are a murderer, Johnny Trumbull, and my
mamma will never allow me to speak to you again,
and Madame will not allow you to come to school.