Johnnie gasped. And Cis stopped crying, turning on him a look that was full of frightened inquiry. He tipped back his head, to stare at the ceiling as if striving to see through it, and he held his breath, listening. During the quarrel, he had not thought of Mrs. Kukor, nor heard any sound from above. Was she at home? Oh, he hoped she was not! or that she had not heard! But she was at home, and was preparing to obey the raps. Her rocking steps could be heard, crossing the floor. "Johnnie!" warned Cis. She forgot herself now, in remembering what might be threatening. They heard the scrape of the book basket as it left the upper sill. Johnnie got to his feet then, watching Barber, who was leaning over the sink, cleaning out the bowl of the pipe with the half of a match. Oh, if only the longshoreman would leave the window now, before--before---- Almost gayly, and as jerkily as always, the basket with its precious load came dropping by quick inches into full view, where it swung from side to side, waiting to be drawn in. And as it swung, Big Tom caught the movement of it, faced round, and stood staring, seeing the books, but not comprehending just yet how they came to be outside his window, or for whom they were intended. And Johnnie, his face distorted by an agony of anxiety, kept his eyes on Barber. "Ha-a-a-a!" Cis broke in, scornfully. "He's been asking old Grandpa questions, Johnnie! He's been spying on you, too! He ought to make a fine detective! All he does is spy!" It was this which told Barber that the books belonged in his flat, and to Johnnie. "So-o-o-o!" he roared triumphantly, and grabbed the four strings. But now his anger was toward Mrs. Kukor. His jerk at the basket had told her something: that all was not right down below. And the next moment she was pulling hard at the strings, dire amazement, and alarm, and dismay in her every jerk. Big Tom, holding firmly to the basket, leaned out to call. "Hey, there!" he said angrily. "Vot?" "I say, what y' sendin' books down _here_ for?" An exclamation--in that strange tongue which she spoke--smothered and indistinct, but fervent! Then more jerks. "Oh, yes!" called out Cis. "Now abuse her! Insult that poor little thing! She's only a woman!" Barber had no time to answer this. He was pulling at the strings, too, trying to break them. "Let go up there!" he shouted. "It wass my basket!" With a curse, "I don't care _whose_ basket it is! Let _go_!" he ordered, and gave such a wrench at the strings that all parted, suddenly, and the basket was his. "Y' think y're pretty smart, don't y'?" he demanded, head out of the window again; "helpin' this kid t' neglect his work!" "I pay you always, Mister Barber," she answered, "if so he makes his work oder not!" "Yes, and he knows it, Mrs. Kukor!" Cis called out. "Don't you ever set foot in this here flat again!" ordered Big Tom. "That's right!" retorted Cis, as fearless as ever. "Drive her away!--the best friend we've ever had!"