did not understand it. His own childhood was too far behind him. He was
like an old and irritable man, annoyed by the turbulence of their young
spirits that was to him arrant silliness. He glowered silently over his
food, finding compensation in the thought that they would soon have to go
to work. That would take the edge off of them and make them sedate and
dignified--like him. Thus it was, after the fashion of the human, that
Johnny made of himself a yardstick with which to measure the universe.

During the meal, his mother explained in various ways and with infinite
repetition that she was trying to do the best she could; so that it was
with relief, the scant meal ended, that Johnny shoved back his chair and
arose. He debated for a moment between bed and the front door, and finally
went out the latter. He did not go far. He sat down on the stoop, his
knees drawn up and his narrow shoulders drooping forward, his elbows on his
knees and the palms of his hands supporting his chin.

As he sat there, he did no thinking. He was just resting. So far as his
mind was concerned, it was asleep. His brothers and sisters came out, and
with other children played noisily about him. An electric globe at the
corner lighted their frolics. He was peevish and irritable, that they
knew; but the spirit of adventure lured them into teasing him. They joined
hands before him, and, keeping time with their bodies, chanted in his face
weird and uncomplimentary doggerel. At first he snarled curses at them--
curses he had learned from the lips of various foremen. Finding this
futile, and remembering his dignity, he relapsed into dogged silence.

His brother Will, next to him in age, having just passed his tenth
birthday, was the ringleader. Johnny did not possess particularly kindly
feelings toward him. His life had early been embittered by continual
giving over and giving way to Will. He had a definite feeling that Will