"Shucks," said Nance, contemptuously, "we kin beat 'em makin' faces an' callin' names." "Well, how did you start the fight?" "That there big boy dared me to step in the concrete. Didn't you now?" Mac stood looking straight ahead of him and refused to acknowledge her presence. "It strikes me," said the judge, "that you choir boys could be better employed than in teasing and provoking the children in the alley. What do you think, Mac?" Mac had been provided with no answer to this question, so he offered none. "Unfortunately," the judge continued, "it is the fathers of boys like you who have to take the punishment. Your father will have to pay for the window. But I want to appeal to your common sense and your sense of justice. Look at me, Mac. You have had advantages and opportunities beyond most boys. You are older than these children. Don't you think, instead of using your influence to stir up trouble and put us to this annoyance and expense, it would be much better for you to keep on your side of the fence and leave these people back of the cathedral alone?" "Yes, sir," said Mac, perfunctorily. "And you promise me to do this?" "Yes, sir." "We will give you a chance to make your promise good. But remember your name is on our record; if there is any more trouble whatever, you will hear from us. Mr. Clarke, I look to you to see that your son behaves himself. You may step aside please. And now, boy, what is your name?" "Dan Lewis." "Oh, yes. I think we have met before. What have you to say for yourself?" The shoeless, capless, unwashed boy, with his ragged trousers hitched to his shoulders by one suspender, frowned up at the judge through a fringe of tumbled hair. "Nothin'," he said doggedly. "Where do you live?" "I live at home when me maw's there." "Where is she now?" This question caused considerable nudging and side-glancing on the part of Mrs. Snawdor. "She's went to the country," said Dan. "Is your father living?" "I dunno." "Did you go to school last year?" "No." "Why not?" "Didn't have no shoes." "Does your mother work?" This question brought more nudges and glances from Mrs. Snawdor, none of which were lost on the boy. "Me mother don't have to work," he said defiantly. "She's a lady." The judge cleared his throat and called Mrs. Snawdor sharply to order. "Well, Dan," he said, "I am sorry to see you back here again. What were you up for before?" "Chuckin' dice." "And didn't I tell you that it would go hard with you if you came back?" "Yes, sir, but I never chucked no more dice." "And I suppose in spite of the way your mouth is bruised, you'll tell me you weren't mixed up in this fight?" The boy stood staring miserably at the wall with eyes in which fear and hurt pride struggled for mastery.