There was a tense pause. The two at the center of the room were gazing straight at each other; and it seemed to Johnnie, wavering weakly against the table, that he would die from fear. However, Mr. Perkins was not frightened. His hat was in his left hand. He let it drop to the floor. But he did not move back an inch, while those well-kept hands curled themselves into knots so hard that their knuckles were topped with white. "You wanted to see me?" he said. "Y're wrong!" declared Big Tom. "I didn't want t' see y'. I had t' see y'." "I note the distinction," returned Mr. Perkins. "Y' do! Well, just listen t' me a second," counseled Barber, "before we git started on to what I've got t' say." Now his anger flamed higher. He began to shake a big finger. "Don't you put on no fancy airs with me! Y' git that? For the good and simple reason that I won't stand for 'em!" He chawed on nothing. "I was not aware that I _was_ putting on any fancy airs," answered Mr. Perkins. "Airs are something that I don't--waste." "Any high-falutin' stuff would be wasted 'round here," went on Barber. "We're just plain, hard-workin', decent people.--And now we'll git down to brass tacks." He passed in front of Mr. Perkins and settled himself heavily in the morris chair. The scoutmaster faced about, found the kitchen chair, and sat. "I'm listening," he said. He was businesslike, even cordial. "You seem t' hang 'round here about two-thirds of your time," commented Big Tom, hunting his pipe. "No," contradicted Mr. Perkins, easily. "Lately, I've been coming here one hour a day." "And just what's the idear?" The big fingers plucked blindly at the strings of a tobacco-bag, for Big Tom did not take his eyes from the younger man. "I've been giving the boy setting-up exercises," explained Mr. Perkins. "Y' have!"--sarcastically. "Ain't that sweet of y'!" Then with an impatient gesture that scattered tobacco upon the floor, "Exercises!" Big Tom cried wrathfully. "_Exercises!_ As if he can't git all the exercises he needs by doin' his work! I have t' feed that kid, and feed costs money. He knows that. And he earns. Because he ain't no grafter." In sheer amazement, Johnnie's look strayed to Mr. Perkins. He had expected mistreatment and insult for himself, and here he was receiving praise! "There's a difference in exercising," said Mr. Perkins. "Johnnie gets one kind while he's doing his work. But his work is all inside work, out of the fresh air that every boy needs. And certain of his muscles are not developed. I've been correcting that undevelopment by giving him the regular setting-up that we give all boy scouts." "Shucks, your boy scouts!" sneered Big Tom. "We got no time for 'em. We're poor, and we're busy, and we got a' old, sick man on our hands. That's scoutin' enough!" "Many men who have boys think as you do," acknowledged Mr. Perkins, serenely. "That is, at first." "I think it first and second," returned Big Tom, raising his voice. "And also I know it."