Big Tom let him get no further. "Take them rags off!" he commanded. The last trace of that smile was gone. The bulging eyes looked out through slits. That underlip was thrust forward wrathfully. "Take your suit off, Johnnie," counseled Cis. "Don't you see he hates to have you look nice?" "My--my scout suit!" faltered the boy. The light in those peering, bloodshot eyes told him that the longshoreman would mistreat that beloved uniform; and Johnnie wanted to gain time. Something, or some one, might interrupt, and thus stave off--what? Barber straightened. "Take--it--off," he said quietly, but with heat; and added, "Before I tear it off." Johnnie proceeded to carry out the order. He put the beautiful olive-drab hat on the table. Next he unfastened the neat, webbed belt, and unlaced the soldierly leggings. The emblemed coat came off carefully. The khaki shirt followed. Last of all, having slipped his feet out of the wonderful shoes, he pulled off the trousers, and stood, a pathetic little figure, in an old undershirt of Grandpa's, the sleeves of which he had shortened, and a pair of Grandpa's underdrawers, similarly cut--to knee length. Barber stared at the underclothes. "Who said y' could wear my old man's things?" he asked. "N--nobody." "They're too small for Grandpa," declared Cis, stoutly. "Johnnie might as well wear them. If he didn't, I'd throw them away, or use them for dishcloths." Barber did not notice the girl. "Nobody," he repeated. "But y' go ahead and use the scissors on 'em!" "Your shirts 're so big," reminded Johnnie; "and the pants, too. And if I didn't wear nothin', why, I'd dirty the new uniform, wearin' it next my skin, and so----" "Fold that truck up!" came the next command. Under Grandpa's old, torn undershirt, Johnnie's heart began to beat so hard that he could hear it. But quietly and dutifully he folded each dear article, and placed all, one upon another, neatly, the hat topping the pile. Finished, he stood waiting, and his whole body trembled with a chill that was not from cold or fear, but from apprehension. Oh, what was about to happen to his treasured uniform? Cis was silent now, refraining from angering Big Tom at a time when it was possible for him to vent his rage on Johnnie's belongings. But she watched him breathlessly as he rose and went to the table, and reached to take the books. "So y' keep 'em upstairs?" he said to Johnnie. "Yes, sir,"--it was a whisper. "She's accommodatin', ain't she, the old lady?" "She--she--yes." "A-a-ah!" The longshoreman placed the books atop the olive-drab hat, crushing it flat with their weight. "Oh! Oh, don't hurt 'em!" pleaded Johnnie. He put out a hand. "Oh, I won't hurt 'em," answered Big Tom. But his tone was far from reassuring.