"Well, then, bein' his boy, I'd like t' act as--as fine as I can." He pressed his lips tight together. He still felt his lot a bitter one in the flat; he still yearned to get away. But during these last few months a change had come over him--in his hopes, his aspirations, his thinks--a change fully as great as the change in his outward appearance. In a way, he had been made over, soul as well as body, that by taking in, by a sort of soaking process, certain ideas--of honor, duty, self-respect, unselfishness, courage, chivalry. And whereas once his whole thought had been to go, go, go, now he knew that those certain ideas were much more important than going. Also, there were the Laws. One of these came into his mind now--the first one. It came in a line of black letters which seemed to be suspended in the air between him and Mr. Perkins: _A scout is trustworthy_. The moment he saw that line he understood what he would do. This new-old tempting dream, he would give it up. "Mister Perkins," he began again, "I can't go 'way and leave old Grandpa here alone. I'm goin' t' stay with him till he dies, jus' like my father stayed with my mother. Yes, I must keep with Grandpa. He's a cripple, and he's old, and--he's a baby." His jaw set resolutely. And then--having decided--what a marvelous feeling instantly possessed him! What peace he felt! What happiness! What triumph! He seemed even taller than usual! And lighter on his feet! And, oh, the strength in his backbone! in those lead-pipe legs! (Though he did not know it, that look which was all light was on his face, while his mouth was turned up at both ends like the ends of the Boy Scout scroll.) "I'm not terrible bad off here no more," he went on. "I got this suit, and my books, and One-Eye's quart o' milk. Also, Mrs. Kukor, she'll be back 'fore long, and you'll bring Cis home t' see me, won't y'?" "I will." "Things'll be all right. Evenin's, I'm goin' t' night school, like Mister Maloney said. And all the time, while I'm learnin', and watchin' out for Grandpa, why, I'll be growin' up--nobody can stop me doin' _that_." _Tap! tap! tap! tap!_--the wheel chair was backing into sight at the door of the tiny room. Johnnie began to whisper: "Don't speak 'bout Cis, will y'? It'd make him cry." Grandpa heard the whispering. He looked round over a shoulder, his pale eyes searching the half-dark kitchen. "Johnnie, what's the matter?" he asked, as if fearful. "What's the matter?" Johnnie went to him, walking with something of a swagger. "Nothin's the matter!" he declared stoutly. "What y' talkin' 'bout? Ev'rything's fine! Jus' _fine_!" The frightened look went out of the peering, old eyes. Grandpa broke into his thin, cackling laugh. "Everything's fine!" he cried. He shook a proud head. "Everything's fine!"