"I'll go," answered the priest, calmly, "when I'm tossed out o' the windy--or the door. But I'll not go by me own choosin'. I'm not lastin' long annyhow, so ye can drop me into the court if ye like. Then the law will take ye out o' the way o' these dear children." Barber clenched and unclenched his fists, yearning to strike, yet not daring. "Go home and mind y'r own affairs," he counseled. "Me own affairs is exactly what I'm mindin'," retorted the Father. Then, mournfully, "Oh, if only I had me old strength! If me lungs wasn't as full o' holes as a sieve! I'd say, 'Tom Barber, come ahead!' And as God's me witness, I'd thrash ye within' a inch o' yer black life!" And he shook a finger before the longshoreman's nose. Mrs. Kukor was giving Johnnie some milk. He whispered to her, fearing from the look in her dark eyes that she was blaming herself bitterly for what had happened to his books. "Don't y' worry," he pleaded; "it wasn't nobody's fault. And if y' hadn't kept 'em upstairs long as y' did, he'd 've burned em 'fore ever I learned 'em." "Chonnie!" she gasped. Concerned for the safety, yes, even the lives, of the two she loved, she had forgotten to inquire the fate of that basketful. Now she knew it! "Oy! oy! oy! oy!" "Aw, shut up y'r oy-oy's," scolded Big Tom. Father Pat had heard Johnnie, and understood him. "But we'll not be carin' about anny crazy destruction," he announced cheerfully; "for, shure, and there's plenty more o' 'em on sale in this town." Johnnie stared up, trying to comprehend the good news. "The _'xact_ same ones?" he asked. "Little book lover, I'll warrant there's a thousand o' each story--if a man was t' take count." "Oh!" The Father knelt. "Lad, dear!" he exclaimed tenderly. "Faith, and did ye think that ye owned the only copies in the _world_ o' them classics?" Now Johnnie fully realized the truth. "Oh, Father Pat!" he cried, and fell to laughing aloud in sheer joy. "God love the lad!" breathed the priest, ready to weep with happiness at restoring that joy. "Was there ever such another? Why, in one hour, and without spendin' a penny, I could be readin' all seven o' yer books! Yes, yes! In that grand book temple I told ye about--the one with the steps that lead up (oh, but they're elegant), and the lions big as horses." "I know," said Johnnie. "I remember. I--I was there 'way late last night--in a think." "Why, little reader dear, in that temple, and out o' it, shure and there's enough Aladdins t' pave half a mile o' Fifth Avenue! and it's likely ye could put up a Woolworth Building with nothin' but Crusoes and Mohicans!" "I'm so glad! So glad! _My!_" "And Father Pat's glad," added the priest. As he stood once more, he lifted a smiling face to the ceiling; and up past the kitchen of the little Jewish lady he sent a prayer of gratitude to his Maker for the blessing of that instrument of man's genius, the printing press.